


Give Me The Names of Those Who Value My Life

by 1EggLaugh2, Orchidgardens



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Background Naegi Komaru, Background Relationships, Bisexual Hinata Hajime, Confused Hinata Hajime, Drama & Romance, Enoshima Junko Being An Asshole, Enoshima Junko Being Enoshima Junko, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone is Bisexual, F/M, Fluff, Gaming, Hinata Hajime Swears, How Do I Tag, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Imprisonment, Komaeda Nagito Being Komaeda Nagito, Komaeda Nagito Is Obsessed With Hope, Komaeda Nagito's Luck Cycle, M/M, Minor Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko, Not Beta Read, OT3, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Possible Character Death, Prison, Romance, Slowish to Update, Tags Are Fun, Tags May Change, Tired Hinata Hajime, everything is fine, possible angst, slow burn?, title may change?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1EggLaugh2/pseuds/1EggLaugh2, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orchidgardens/pseuds/Orchidgardens
Summary: Hope's Peak Penitentiary: A secret prison in the mountains made to contain Japan's most dangerous and most talented criminals, managed by the game-loving Chiaki Nanami and her talented coworkers.Amongst all the despicable prisoners within its walls, one stands out: Inmate 55, Nagito Komaeda.With a deadly cycle of luck that targets those with talent and himself, it seems the only option is to keep everyone away from Nagito and let him starve and decay alone.Until Chiaki gets the idea of utilizing a perfectly ordinary person, the kind of human Nagito only holds contempt and apathy for, as a way to bypass the luck cycle. And that's where Hajime Hinata comes in.(AKA AU where Nagito is in a maximum security prison, Chiaki plays games instead of doing her work, and Hajime has to feed him. What could possibly go wrong?)
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito/Nanami Chiaki, Hinata Hajime/Nanami Chiaki, Komaeda Nagito/Nanami Chiaki
Comments: 31
Kudos: 131





	1. Day 001, 5:00AM, Hope’s Peak Penitentiary: East Entrance

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, welcome to my first fanfiction on this site! I'm here to have fun and indulge myself in my OT3. I hope whoever reads this can also find some enjoyment in it!

Hajime Hinata was a normal prison guard, he wasn’t supposed to be in weird situations like this. Not this goddamn early in the morning. The sun hadn’t even risen on the horizon to paint the sky rose pink and he hadn’t even arrived at his station in Kodaka Prison when the warden had summoned him to her office, given him a basic summary of the situation, and called a car to take him to his destination. 

What the hell even was his destination? asked Hajime as he watched the black car drive away after dropping him off. ‘Hope’s Peak Penitentiary’? Never heard of it! And yet the warden had insisted that he be careful. It contained some of the most dangerous criminal scum to ever curse this poor planet, which is why all of the identities of its inhabitants and its existence itself was kept a secret. 

And, looking up at this jagged mountain that loomed over him and was so tall that the top was hidden in the clouds, with two steel doors set into it the height of an apartment building, Hajime could certainly see that whoever built this prison agreed with the warden. It wasn’t just the large shadow the mountain cast that had him shivering. 

There was just something so _eerie_ about being in the middle of a desolate, dusty desert like this. Hope’s Peak Penitentiary itself exuded a cold malice like a steel trap, like it was personally assuring any passersby that anyone who entered would never escape to see the blue of the sky again. And that was just the outside! Hajime didn’t even want to imagine what the inside was like… 

But he needed money from his job to buy food and shit, so he couldn’t just book it, could he? 

Hajime craned his neck at an angle, trying to see how he could ask the guards inside to open the doors. Next to the left door, he noticed a much smaller door. Though it was just as heavily-reinforced as the bigger doors, it looked like it was meant for humans instead of Godzilla at least. Hajime walked up to it and tentatively knocked it with his knuckle. 

A small slot in the door slid to the side. Hajime expected to see someone’s eyes, but instead saw only darkness.

“Motherfucking shit!” cursed a male voice from the other side of the door. It came from around his chest height. “Fuck this stupid fuckin’ tall door and-”

“Uh...Fuyuhiko? Is everything okay?” asked a female voice, further away. “Should I-?”

“Whatever! If you insist, have a fucking field day.” 

There was some loud shuffling and then Hajime saw a pair of plum-purple eyes framed by long lashes appear in the small rectangle in the hole. “Uh...hi? We’re not accepting visitors here today.” Ah, so this was the female speaking earlier. Hajime blinked, confused. “Not tomorrow either. We’re not _ever_ accepting visitors. Go away. Have a nice day!” The slot began to slide closed.

“H-Hey, wait!” spoke up Hajime. “I’m a prison guard, too!” He inhaled and exhaled deeply as the slot opened again, straightening his back and stating, “My name is Hajime Hinata. I’m a corrections officer of Kodaka Prison, but I was sent here for some ‘special assignment’.”

“ _Just_ a corrections officer?” asked the girl skeptically. She closed her eyes as she sighed, “Alright. We are expecting a Hajime Hinata today, but we’ll need to do a security check to make sure you’re who you say you are.”

Hajime frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“This is a _maximum security prison_ full of Japan’s most dangerous criminals,” replied the girl. “Do you really think people aren’t lying and tricking like their lives depend on it to get in here?”

Hajime wasn’t given time to answer before the slot roughly slid shut and, after a comically long period of time where the only sound he heard was locks being unfastened, the door opened. 

The girl with plum-coloured eyes stood in front of him, one hand on the door. She had smooth, golden hair that was parted on the right and curved outwards, making it look a lot bigger than it actually was, along with an ahoge similar to Hajime’s. The sparkly musical note hairclips she wore made her stern expression look a lot less intimidating, but the dusty brown uniform she wore, with its golden badges and bright orange tie, certainly made up for that with professionalism. 

Standing next to her was a...preschooler?

No, nevermind. A preschooler would never look at Hajime with such malice in their eyes. Hajime supposed this boy with the honey blonde hair in a crew cut just didn’t drink enough milk, or was naturally baby-faced and short. The freckles, rosy cheeks, and mole on the right corner of his mouth were pretty cute, though. His uniform was exactly the same as the girl’s, except his tie was black and pinstriped and he had an eyepatch on his right eye, making him look like some sort of Yakuza boss. 

“So this is the guy, huh?” said the shorter boy, looking Hajime up and down with his one good eye. “Looks like any other average Joe we’d find on the streets.”

“Well...yeah. That’s the _point_ , Fuyuhiko,” the girl sighed. “Right. Come on, Hajime.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, the other boy shutting the door behind him.

So...Hajime was apparently here because he was average? Well, didn’t that just boost his self-esteem through the damn roof! 

He was dragged through sleek dark hallways to a metal detector, where a huge man who looked like he was straight out of _JoJo's Bizarre Adventure_ and had a chain attached to the collar of his uniform waited. Annoyingly enough, after getting dirty looks for his only form of identification being his officer’s badge, he had to strip to his only shirt and boxers and put all his items through a scanner before he could walk through the metal detector, get smelled by three different types of dogs, and have the muscular man frisk him seven times.

“ALL RIGHT!” shouted the man as Hajime dressed himself. “HE’S ALL CLEAR!” 

Was that lightning shooting from his eyebrows? What the fuck? He’d only been here for two hours at most (that security check took _ages_ ) and Hajime already wanted to go home and watch his telenovelas. 

The large man slapped Hajime on the back. “Sorry ‘bout that! Considering what you’re here to do, we had to be absolutely sure you didn’t have any items that could pose a threat.”

Hajime pointed to the packs of gummies that a pink-haired guy in a beanie was dropping into a plastic box. “Even my Haribos?! You _sadists_!”

The pink-haired guy gritted his teeth, which Hajime noticed were oddly shark-like. “When in this line of work, you have to live by the philosophy ‘Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong’, especially when it comes to him.”

Him? Were these guys playing the goddamn Pronoun Game now? 

The muscular man added, “And let’s not forget: ‘EAT WELL, SHIT WELL!’!!!”

“I’m just gonna ignore that,” Hajime said, averting his gaze. 

The short boy clicked his tongue. “You’re probably here to be our new coworker, so you’ve got no choice but to adapt.”

“Look on the bright side,” said the blonde cheerfully. “Since it’s ‘adapt or die’ here, you have a great incentive to adapt, don’t you?”

Exasperated, Hajime felt his eye twitch. “Just what am I here to do?! Who are you people?!” 

“I AM NEKOMARU NIDAIIIIIIIII!!!!!” bellowed the muscular man so loudly that Hajime felt the Earth itself shake.

The girl smiled. “Well, we’re not here to introduce ourselves. First you should go talk to the Warden. Miu will take you.” She gestured to the girl sitting behind the scanner who Hajime hadn’t noticed sitting there. That was kind of strange, considering her unique appearance of long blonde hair that stuck up like tentacles, steampunk goggles pushed up onto her forehead, and a modified uniform that exposed her cleavage and thighs.

“Ha! I gotta take this little virgin scrub to the boss?! No way!” refused the girl called Miu, her haughty tilt of the head contrasting her vulgar manner. “Get someone else to fuckin’ do it. I’m an important person with important shit to do!” She slapped the scanner with a perverted grin on her face.

Nodding, Nekomaru agreed, “Shit is definitely important!” 

“Okay… I’ll leave you two and your shit,” said the blonde girl. She turned to the short boy, saying, “Looks like you’re gonna have to do it, Fuyuhiko. Good luck!” and pushed him towards Hajime. 

Fuyuhiko grumbled and marched off as if rebelling, but he turned around to beckon Hajime, who jogged after him. For someone so short, Fuyuhiko was definitely quite fast. Hajime had the feeling he’d get beaten up for saying that, so he kept his mouth shut.

As they traveled down, Hajime noticed that the entire prison was a labyrinth of spotless corridors and stairs made out of dark rock, seemingly either carved into the mountain or built out of it. Numbered iron-plated doors with small food slots near the bottom placed symmetrically on each side of the wall were the only splash of colour, illuminated by naked light bulbs that hung from chains on the ceiling. Despite how clean everything was, Hajime couldn’t help but feel tainted walking through these hallways- as if the sheer malice contained in this prison was so potent it corrupted everything near it. 

Hajime followed Fuyuhiko up a spiral staircase with an iron railing, careful not to look over the side at the black abyss that expanded beneath him. At the top of the staircase there was a small platform and yet another iron-plated door, but this one had a sort of bat-like creature with rectangular eyes stamped into it. 

“So. This is the manager’s office. You better remember the way here,” said Fuyuhiko.

“Absolutely not- this place is a maze,” Hajime replied.

“Well, fuck you too.” Fuyuhiko made a face. “Ugh, whatever. If I have to show you around some more, then I’ll do it, but only as much as I need to. I’m not gonna fuckin’ hold your hand, got it?”

“R-Right…” said Hajime, rubbing the back of his neck. Noticing how grumpy Fuyuhiko was, Hajime decided to try and smooth things over. He didn’t want to have a bad relationship with him after all, especially if he was going to be his senior at work. “Uh...thanks for doing this. You’re a really nice guy.”

The short boy narrowed his eyes at him. “...You strange bastard,” he muttered as he walked off, leaving Hajime alone. 

Sighing, Hajime turned to face the door. He grabbed the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. That probably meant he could just enter, right? The warden was probably expecting him after all.

_I need some answers._

He turned the doorknob.

_And they're...on the other side of this door...!_

Okay. Wow. Apparently a gamer girl was the answer to all his problems? 

The dimly lit office was spacious, but it didn’t seem that way due to the abundance of screens and laptops, fluffy pillows, folders with papers spilling out of them, gaming consoles, and large desk in the center cluttered with anime figurines. 

At the desk sat a petite girl with short mauve hair and straight bangs pinned to the right with a pixelated hairclip. With her legs on the desk, her sleepy pink eyes stared at the Nintendo Switch she appeared to be playing Super Smash Bros. on, a thin line of drool streaming from her parted lips. The outfit she wore was similar to the other prison guards with the exception of a dark turquoise hoodie with cat ears on the hood and a rose-coloured cat batpack, pink ribbon around her neck, golden epaulets on the brown blazer she wore over it. 

“Ex...cuse me?” called Hajime. She gave no response. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Excuse me! I’m looking for the manager of Hope’s Peak Penitentiary?”

That got her attention. Her eyes flicked up to him before returning to the game. “...Yup, yup… That’s me… Chiaki Nanami...manager of Hope’s Peak Penitentiary...I think.” She swung her legs off the desk. “And you must be...um…” The manager’s eyes closed. Hajime was astounded to hear soft snores coming from her before she suddenly snapped awake. “Ah… Hajime Hinata, right? You’re here for a debriefing, which I’m supposed to give you...I think…”

Hajime deadpanned. “You think?” 

“I think,” nodded Chiaki. She gestured for him to sit in the chair opposite her, rubbing her eyes, before sitting up straight, “I have a very important task for you. That’s why you’re here. It’s only one thing, and it’s all you’ll have to do. You’ll even get a raise, both for hard work and for coming here in the first place.”

“I didn’t really have much of a choice,” Hajime said bashfully, scratching his cheek.

“Even so, you must’ve sensed how intimidating everything is here- how dangerous- so coming this far says a lot about you,” said Chiaki. She grabbed a nearby laptop and fumbled around with. A few seconds later she flipped it around to face Hajime, showing the slideshow on it.

Chiaki reached into a desk drawer and pulled out some flash cards. “ _Hope’s Peak Penitentiary is a prison created by talented people and run by talented people for the containment of talented people_ ,” she read. “ _It was designed to imprison the most dangerous criminals in Japan, which is why it’s kept off-the-radar-_ “

“I'm sorry, but I know all that,” interrupted Hajime. “Uh...can we pretend this is a video game and I can skip dialogue? To the parts that explain what goes on here? And what I’m here to do? Please?” 

“Skipping...dialogue,” yawned Chiaki. She dropped the flash cards on the floor, then pressed a button on the laptop, fast-forwarding to what looked like a map of the prison, a line drawn through the topmost section. 

Chiaki held up one hand. “This prison...is split into two sections: The Reserve Course on the Upper Level, made to just contain...some ordinary but despicable criminals and managed by ordinary guards,” she held up the other hand, “and the Main Course on the Lower Level, run by...some of the people you saw earlier.” She leaned forwards, placing her elbows on her desk and propping up her chin. “Now that’s...the main focus of this prison. It’s full of some people too dangerous for society to...even to know about...I think.”

“Okay… So what am I here for? Where will I be working?” asked Hajime. It pained him to say, “I’m...just some normal prison officer with no talent, so I’m gonna be in the Reserve Course, right?”

Chiaki frowned. “Don’t say that about yourself. Having a talent doesn’t define your worth.” She paused. “Then again...it’s not necessary for me to say that, considering you’ll be working in the Main Course.” 

Hajime processed her words. Then gasped with excitement, sitting up so suddenly he knocked his chair over.

“Wait, seriously?! That's awesome!”

“Yup…” There was a slight tenseness in Chiaki’s face, as if she was cringing at his enthusiasm. She fast-forwarded through a couple more slides before settling on one with an image of a male around Hajime’s age. The glance she gave him indicated that she wanted him to examine the image closely.

It was a mugshot of a male in a deep green coat with a hoodie, holding up a placard with the number **55**. The milky-white skin he had matched the colour of his wispy, cloud-like hair that darkened to red at the tips. His serene green eyes had long eyelashes and were slightly lidded as they looked at the camera. He was pretty, sure, but something just felt...off about him. His gaze was too calm, he was too thin, his skin had a sickly yellowish tint to it- Plus, his collarbone was freakishly prominent. 

“This is Inmate Fifty-Five: Nagito Komaeda. The only prisoner here on the East Side’s Lower Level,” said Chiaki after enough minutes had passed. While the sleepiness in her voice didn’t go away, a certain sharpness overtook it. “He’s...extremely dangerous and has nearly destroyed a city.” The slideshow showed an image of several buildings destroyed beyond repair into rubble. Some of the damage looked accidental, some of it looked like the result of an explosive. “Not just because of his intelligence and lack of empathy- but because of his luck." She explained, "Based on studies, it looks like it works in a cycle, with something good preceding something bad and vice versa. Despite that, it’s extremely unpredictable, so I haven’t gotten clearance to take him to a mental institution for treatment yet because it’s not safe.”

“Lemme guess,” said Hajime dryly. “Is this the part where I come in? Do I have to change his underwear or something?” The way his day- no, his _life_ \- was going, he might as well, right?

“Ah, smart guess, Hajime,” nodded the manager. “You see...Nagito _idolizes_ hope and those with talent to a really...concerning degree. Since he always thinks of those with talent, his luck always affects them.” She held up a finger. “But he couldn’t care less about ordinary people. So that’s why you were chosen. We’re hoping that he’ll be apathetic enough to you for his luck and malicious intent to avoid you.” 

Hajime frowned. “But why _me_?” 

Was it random? No, it couldn’t be… Well, looking at things realistically, it probably was, but...Hajime was allowed to hope, right? To have a little faith that maybe there was something special about him? For once in his life? 

“Well...none of _our_ Reserve Course guards wanted to even go near Nagito, so we sent out a message,” Chiaki explained. “Kodaka Prison offered you up...almost immediately, I think. Plus, you have a dependable face,” Chiaki flushed slightly, “and...you kind of look like Hajime Iwaizumi from _Haikyuu!!_. You even have the same first name.” 

“...Thanks,” deadpanned Hajime, eye twitching. “That really, really helps my self-esteem. I feel so important.” 

“...Sorry,” winced Chiaki. “But...look on the bright side...Hajime Iwaizumi is a really cool character. And you seem even cooler…”

Massaging his temples, Hajime said, “No, no… Sorry. I’m getting mad for no reason.” Right. He was stupid. This was to be expected. As he picked up the chair he’d accidentally knocked over, a hard ball of... _something_ seemed to build in his throat like pressure in a pipe about to burst. He hated it. He hated how he was doing something special and important for once, but it was apparently dangerous and he’d only be chosen for it because he was so goddamn ordinary and boring and worthless-

Though she wasn’t the most socially adept, Chiaki was easily able to read the expression on Hajime’s face, frowning afterwards. 

“Umm… Hajime?” 

He looked up.

“...” Chiaki frowned, starting to regret her decision to call out so suddenly without thinking.

“Hey? Hellooooo?” Hajime waved his hand in front of her dazed face.

She blinked. “Oh, um… Do you have any requests?” she asked. “All you’ll be doing is bringing Nagito food and his living amenities so...maybe there’s something you’d like to bring? A video game? A stuffed animal? A snack?” 

“Well…” Deep in thought, Hajime stroked his chin. “That pink-haired guy with the beanie has my Haribos, so I’d like those back, please.” 

“What kind?” 

“Uhh… I had some Sour Gold-Bears and Peaches,” he answered. Chiaki nodded like he’d just said an inspiring speech before battling to the death. 

“...I like you, Hajime,” she declared after some thought. “I’m gonna make a Mii that looks like you later.” She brought out her console, as if this added weight to her promise. 

A small flush flared in his cheeks. You couldn’t just _say_ that to someone! 

“Let’s go rescue your Haribos from Kazuichi,” said Chiaki, standing up. She wobbled slightly on her feet, like she wasn’t used to standing up, before walking out of her office with a confused Hajime following close behind.

They returned to the area where Hajime had been security checked, only now there were a lot more people there, chatting and laughing. Either they were disturbingly relaxed, or they were that confident in their ability to this place.

Chiaki cupped her hands around her mouth, calling, “Everyone!” and despite how quiet her voice was, every officer turned and stood to attention. “I have an announcement. Starting today, Hajime Hinata,” she gestured to him, “will be working with all of you. He is ranking Reserve Course, but that’s exactly why the Steering Committee thought he’d be good to deal with our resident Ultimate Lucky Student.” 

A collective groan of annoyance at the mention of _that person_ and pity Hajime chorused from the guards. 

“Hajime probably...won’t end up interacting with any of you much,” admitted the manager, “but...I think it's good to have friends at work. So I’d like you to introduce yourselves and the talent that you’re classified by.” 

“My name is Kaede Akamatsu. My talent is playing the piano,” said the blonde girl from earlier. “Nice to meet you, Hajime! Let’s hope you survive longer than the average Reserve Course officer!” She smiled.

The short boy crossed his arms. “Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. I’m a Yakuza. Make like a leaf and fuck off when you’re done with this, okay? Get out of here while you can. It's too dangerous for a normal guy like you.”

“The name’s Kazuichi Soda, _Ultimate_ Mechanic!” The pink-hair boy from before jabbed a thumb at himself. “Pretty cool, right? I made the title myself.”

Hajime laughed dryly. “You sure think highly of yourself.”

“H-Hey…!” protested the mechanic. "Whatever. It's nice to meetcha!" 

The vulgar blonde girl burst out laughing. “I bet you’re already lookin’ at my tits, aren’t ya?” she cackled at a confused Hajime. “Well, help yourself! Staring is the most action you’ll ever get, anyway! Especially when it comes to me- the one and only Miu Iruma, the gorgeous girl genius whose golden brain and inventions will go down in history!” 

“Literally _no_ ,” Hajime said. 

A small boy with dark purple hair that stuck out at odd angles and a black-and-white checkered scarf giggled, “Nee-hee-hee! Ignore the filthy cum dumpster! All she’s good for is saying things nobody cares about and making life hell for everyone!” 

Ignoring how Miu started moaning in the background, Hajime raised an eyebrow. “Who’s this clown?”

“Oooooh! Better be careful what you say to me, Haj!” warned the boy cheekily. “After all, I’m Kokichi Oma! A supreme leader of an organization with over ten thousand members, and a member of the Steering Committee! That means I'm Chiaki's superior!”

_Haj? What kind of nickname is that?_

“Hey! Don’t abuse your power like that!” scolded a red-haired girl, the reddening of her cheeks in annoyance temporarily hiding her freckles. She cleared her throat. “Anyways, my name is Mahiru Koizumi. I’m in charge of taking mugshots here.” Mahiru frowned. “You’re a boy, Hajime, so I expect you to do your job properly and work hard!”

A muscular tan girl with messy brown hair whose shirt also exposed her cleavage (though it seemed to be more a case of her not caring enough to do so instead of I’m purpose like Miu) lazily raised her arm and grinned. “‘Suuuuup! I’m Akane Owari! I like fighting strong people and food!” 

When Hajime noticed what she held in her hands, he felt his heart squeeze with fear. “My gummies!” he gasped, in the manner a mother would gasp ‘My children!’ if she saw her toddlers stuck in a burning building.

Chiaki giggled at how dramatic he was, surprising him. That was the first time she’d laughed around him. “Hey, Akane, you’ll have to give those back to him. I promised Hajime.”

“Huuuuuuuh?” The tan girl narrowed her eyes. “Tch! Fine- but you owe me a buttload of fried chicken!” She tossed the packs of gummy bears at Hajime, who caught them and held them to his chest. 

After a few more introductions that Hajime definitely didn’t have the memory space to remember, Chiaki took him to the cafeteria to get food for Nagito. The cafeteria looked like any other prison cafeteria, with grey walls, benches, vending machines, and long wooden tables, which Chiaki revealed was because it was for the Reserve Course prisoners. Main Course prisoners were too dangerous to be in crowded spaces like this. Chiaki approached the glass panes separating the kitchen from the cafeteria and knocked. A short male with a round, rosy face, beady eyes, and a chef’s hat perched on his heavily-styled brown hair peeked his head out.

“Oh! Is that the new guy everyone’s been talking about?” He peered at Hajime, then licked his lips. “He looks like a fine young man, Chiaki! I-”

“Teruteru, it’s feeding time for the East Side Terror,” interrupted Chiaki. Hajime was grateful, certain he didn’t want to hear the rest of what the chef had to say. 

“Ugh… _Already_?” groaned the chef. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a plastic tray of orange juice, a bowl of rice, and a...salt-shaker? He handed it to Hajime, flirtily introducing himself as Teruteru Hanamura. Chiaki pushed Hajime out of the cafeteria with her before Teruteru could go on a perverted spiel.

“Why is there a salt-shaker?” Hajime asked as he followed Chiaki, shaking the item in question.

“...Um... Nagito likes salty foods and used to passive-aggressively criticise Teruteru about how his food wasn’t salty enough.” Chiaki shrugged. “This is the result.”

“Ah, so it’s just petty revenge,” understood Hajime with a nod. 

The two climbed up the spiral staircase to the metal platform in front of Chiaki office, but instead of returning to the room, they made a left and arrived at another platform made of wood that hung suspended over the abyss next to the office. Chains attached to each corner stretched up into the sky, disappearing into the darkness. It appeared to be connected to a pulley-system.

“This is where I leave you,” said Chiaki. “Nagito’s at the bottom. You have to go alone, for everyone’s safety. But don’t worry,” she added, seeing Hajime’s brow begin to crease, “there are security cameras everywhere, so you can relax and just feed Nagito. I’ll keep both of you safe.”

“Both of us?” 

The manager ushered him onto the platform, hesitantly saying, “Nagito has a...disagreeable personality. He’s not good at empathy or socialising with others...so he tends to get punched or shoved around by guards.” She recalled, “I remember he once mentioned Peko to Fuyuhiko, and nearly got his neck broken.”

“Peko?” 

Her eyes wide, Chiaki clapped her hand over her mouth. “Ah...I shouldn’t have said that.” She placed her hand on the lever. “You shouldn’t ask. But...you seem like a nice person, so maybe Fuyuhiko will tell you later.” 

“...Uh, thanks?” 

A small smile on her face, Chiaki waved childishly. “Bye-bye, Hajime. Remember not to punch Nagito in the face.”

Hajime said, “I’ll do my best,” as Chiaki pulled the lever and the platform began to lower, the chains rattling. They stared at each other with what was intended to be grimness, but it eventually turned into awkward silence. It kind of disappointed Hajime that the last thing he saw wasn’t the person he’d spent the most time with in this crazy prison.

Far far too quickly, the light outside Chiaki’s office faded into the black of the abyss. The platform shook during its descent into the darkness, and the creaking of that and the items on the tray rattling were the only sound in the abyss. They reverberated creepily, filling Hajime’s mind. He noted with some alarm that his breath was beginning to fog. As ridiculous as it was, patting the Haribos in his pocket comforted him.

“This is really creepy. This is like something out of a spy movie,” mumbled Hajime. “Why is this elevator-lift-thing so old and creaky?” he asked. “These guys are so cheap…” 

Or this Nagito was so dangerous that no one wanted to work on it.

 _Woooooooow! Thanks so much, brain! I feel way less anxious now!_ thought Hajime sarcastically as his stomach churned with anxiety like he’d been impaled and his guts were spilling out and-

The platform came to a sudden stop. Hajime nearly toppled off, having to grab the rusty chains for support and making a noise of disgust as his hand came away covered in flaky red. Everything was still pitch-black, with a darkness so thick it felt like it was blanketing him. Was he supposed to feed this lucky psychopath in the dark? 

Hajime raised his hand to shield his eyes as a series of bright white lights switched on in front of him, weak enough to only illuminate a walkway and nothing else. Then a spotlight switched on in the distance. The circle of light perfectly fit the circular platform it fell on. 

Hajime’s eyes widened when he processed the figure in the middle. It was definitely the male from the mugshot...but there was just something so unnerving about seeing him hunched over on his knees, wearing an especially thick straitjacket with chains around his limbs and neck suspended and stretching out into the darkness.

_Holy shit._

“...Uh…” Hajime shuffled across the walkway, reassuring himself with thoughts of ‘He doesn’t look that scary and ‘Chiaki is watching over me’. He nearly laughed out loud when he saw the signpost on the rim of the circular platform: a crudely photoshopped image of the white-haired boy in a green coat on one of those ‘Beware of Dog’ posters. The sheer ridiculousness filled his heart with levity. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad! 

Hajime came to a stop in front of the white-haired boy, unsure if speaking without being spoken to would send Nagito into a psychotic frenzy or...something- he didn’t know! What was he supposed to expect? Everyone had made such a big deal out of this sickly mophead, but he didn’t look that dangerous like this. In fact, Hajime felt pity for Nagito. It must be lonely to be stuck like this all day. How long had he even been imprisoned here?

Hajime waited for Nagito to notice him.

And waited.

And waited. 

And waite-

_Screw it._

“Hey there,” he said. “I’m the new guy.”

Nagito looked up. There was a fading purple bruise under his left eye, complimenting the green of his eyes. “You’re...a Reserve Course guard, aren’t you?” he said. “And you have the _gall_ to talk to me? I don’t know whether I should be impressed or scold you.”

“Oh yes, scold me. That’s my fetish,” deadpanned Hajime. He was obviously being sarcastic, and yet Nagito still made a face of disgust. “Tough crowd.”

“Why are you here?” asked the white-haired boy.

“Because it’s my job and I want to be able to afford food.” Hajime paused. “And maybe treat myself with the occasional expensive soapbar.”

“Ugh… Such disgustingly simple desires,” hissed Nagito. The bright smile appeared on his face so suddenly it was like magic. “Then again, what more can I expect from a Reserve Course guard like you? You completely fit within my expectations, mister…?”

Hajime’s left eye twitched. “I really shouldn’t introduce myself after your terrible first impression…” Nevertheless, he still answered, “My name is Hajime Hinata. I used to work at Kodaka Prison until today. It’s nice to meet you, Nagito.” It really wasn’t.

The white-haired boy laughed. “Wow! You sure are pretentious! Who said you could use my first name so casually?” 

“Who said you could be such a dick?” snapped Hajime. 

Nagito winced, annoyed by the fact that he couldn’t move his arms to cover his ears. “Such crude language…” He sighed. “Kuzuryu’s abrasive personality and talent make it cool when he swears. When you swear, it’s like nails on a chalkboard.” 

Holy shit. _Holy shit._. Chiaki saying ‘Nagito has a disagreeable personality’ was the biggest damn understatement of the year. He may have been good-looking, but that made his condescending expressions all the more irritating. Just what was his problem? Hajime had done nothing wrong- and he knew he was talentless boring trash or whatever, okay? He’d known it all his life. He didn't need yet another person to tell him.

Hajime gritted his teeth. “Well, when you _talk_ it’s like nails on a chalkboard.”

To his surprise, Nagito nodded. “I know, right? My voice is so scratchy and disgusting and wheezy. I’m a constant reminder of death and mortality, so no wonder everyone hates me.” He raised his eyebrows at Hajime. “I suppose the only interesting thing about you is that your ears haven’t started bleeding from hearing me talk for so long.” He added, “And the fact that you haven’t punched me yet, considering I’ve been barraging you with an onslaught of insults from the moment I opened my mouth.” Nagito hummed with joy. “Oh! ‘An onslaught of insults’! How surprisingly musical from a scummy, trashy loser like me!” 

What the hell?

Well, Hajime was definitely gonna have a lot of fun here… 

All he had to do was feed this weirdo and then book it, right? Yeah, he could do that- if he started taking antidepressants and anxiety medication.

“I didn’t come here to talk,” declared Hajime, shaking the tray he held for emphasis. “I just came here to give you some food.”

As Hajime breathed in and out with his eyes closed, he imagined all the anxiety and stress leaving him with every deep breath. He would be fine. Everything would be fine. He would get home in time for his telenovelas. Maybe he would call his parents? It had been a while since he’d seen the-

Like a clumsy anime girl, he tripped over his own feet. 

If asked about this incident, Hajime would deny he’d ever let out a high-pitched shriek- but he would definitely admit to stumbling and accidently tossing the tray of food meant for Nagito into the abyss. And maybe he’d, a lot more reluctantly, admit to falling face-first into Nagito’s chest and knocking the boy over.

Hajime remained on top of Nagito for a moment, because why the hell not? He was tired, and Nagito actually made a pretty good pillow. His hair was nice and fluffy.

Actually, on second thought, maybe using a supposed insane prisoner who was extremely dangerous and had insane luck or whatever as a pillow wasn’t such a good idea. 

The white-haired boy saying, “Hajime? Hey, hey- Hajimeeee?” was all the prompting said boy needed to suddenly wrench himself off, biting his tongue as his back slammed into the cold, hard floor. 

“Son of a-” He rubbed his sore back, spitting blood onto the floor. The drop landed in front of Nagito’s knee, which drew Hajime’s attention to the fact that the prisoner was grunting and flailing around like an upturned bug trying to get back onto its feet, his back arched at an uncomfortable position due to the chains keeping him suspended. He was surprisingly flexible.

“H-Hey, are you okay?” asked Hajime. “Ah, crap. I’m sorry! I tripped into you like some sort of harem protagonist, and now your food’s…,” he glanced at the infinite abyss, “...yeeeaahhh… You’re not getting that back.”

Nagito rolled his eyes. “Oh, thank you so much for stating the obvious, Hajime the Reserve Course officer! I’m so thankful! Trash like me could _never_ be able to deduce something like that!” 

“Shut up, I’m trying to be nice,” snapped Hajime. He shuffled behind Nagito and hooked his hands under the boy’s armpits. “Okay, okay, okay- three, two, one!” he chanted, and then tried to pull up Nagito.

Only for his spine to immediately nearly snap.

“Hhhhhh- Why the _crap_ are you so fucking heavy?!” grunted Hajime.

Nagito shrugged absentmindedly. “The straitjacket I’m wearing is weighed down with weights sewn inside.” 

“Why?!”

“Because I kept escaping from the normal ones,” he explained. “I’m rather frail physically, so they exploited that in this way.” His lips parted in a wicked smile. “As expected of those with talent! How cruel! How merciless! How perfect for trash like me who can only look on as they create hop-”

“Shut up and help me get you onto your knees, you pasty son of a bitch!” 

“Oh my, Hajime!” Nagito’s mouth formed an ‘o’. “You want me on my knees for you? That’s awfully forward, isn’t it? You really do have some strange fetishes, you dirty Reserve Course officer.”

“Are you _seriously_ trying to mess with me right now? This isn’t the time for that!” shouted the brown-haired boy. “I’m gonna drop you!”

But Hajime didn’t. For better or worse, he kept trying to get Nagito sitting upright. It seemed to have some sort of effect on Nagito. After the seventeenth minute, Nagito started pitching in, straining his weak body. Both boys let out a long sigh of relief when Nagito’s upper body was finally high enough for gravity to help and yank him down by the weight of his straightjacket. 

Collapsed on the floor cross-legged, Hajime brushed his spiky bangs, slick with sweat, away. “That took, like, twenty-five minutes…!” he wheezed. “Ugghhhh…” He screamed into the abyss, hoping Chiaki would hear him, "I better get paid extra for this…!” 

“You’re surprisingly strong,” remarked Nagito with some measure of curiosity. “Well, for someone from the Reserve Course, anyway.” The sharpness of his comment was ruined somewhat by the loud rumbling of his stomach, which echoed in the darkness. His cheeks coloured with embarrassment slightly before he haughtily turned his head away. “Ah… I’m so weak and frail… No wonder the Main Course guards don’t like me… I couldn’t care less about the opinions of a Reserve Course guard like you.”

 _This guy seriously has the nerve to act so self-deprecating and condescending after I helped him up and prevented him from getting back problems?!_ thought Hajime. He paused, the anger in his system draining away. _Then again, that was kind of my fault for being so clumsily unlucky..._

With one eyebrow raised ironically, Hajime reached inside his blazer pocket and pulled out his Haribos. He tore the packets open with his teeth and whistled to get the white-haired boy’s attention. 

“Hey, Komaeda!” The boy furrowed his brow at the sudden use of his surname. “I know you don’t like sweet things- neither do I to be honest- but I’m sure neither of us would give up a chance to eat, right?”

“Don’t assume things about me,” snapped Komaeda. He smiled. “After all, boring trash like you and me isn’t worth caring about, let alone making assumptions about.”

Hajime’s eye twitched. 

_I swear to my left toe- this goddamn bitch can’t just accept my kindness and has to destroy my self-esteem like that-_

“Just eat, okay? I don’t want you to starve to death.” He plucked a peach gummy from the bag and held it to Komaeda’s mouth. “Look, I’ll even feed you.” 

With narrowed eyes, Komaeda leaned forward and sank his teeth into the gummy, yanking it from Hajime’s fingers. He puffed out his cheeks in almost a pout as he chewed it, seemingly annoyed by the sweetness. 

“Why are you doing this?” asked Komaeda when he was done chewing. “You know how dangerous I am, right? Do you know why I’m here? Surely you’ve seen how everyone hates me. In fact, it was probably my luck that made you trip like a clumsy anime girl just now.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why are you so insistent that I live?”

What the hell was Hajime supposed to answer? He fed Komaeda another Haribo and answered, “A...general love for humanity? I’m not evil?” while shrugging his shoulders. “What do you want me to say?”

“Ah, so you don’t know why I’m here,” Komaeda said in an airy tone as he raised his eyebrows. “Let’s see… It’s a little hard to find a proper place to start…” His eyes closed as he went over every incident he’d been involved with like they were folders in a filing cabinet, focusing on the ones he’d directly caused himself. Komaeda opened his eyes and smiled. “Oh, that’s right! Did Nanami tell you I leveled a city?”

Hajime shrugged. “I… She told me you _nearly_ destroyed a city.”

Humourlessly, Komaeda snorted. “Of course she’d be kind enough to sugarcoat it so as not to distress the poor talentless newbie! As expected of Nanami! She’s such a kind, wonderful, benevolent person for putting so much effort into restraining me! I should be thrown in the garbage, but instead I got a whole room to myself with a fancy straitjacket and chains,” he rambled. The blush coating his cheeks was faint, but Komaeda was so pale that the pink stood out vibrantly. 

Hajime narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to Komaeda. Were those...swirls? Was that despair or hope in those pale green eyes? Either way, he didn’t like it _at all_. It sent chills down his spine. He snapped his fingers in front of the boy’s face. 

“Hey, you- _hey_!” he said sharply. “What was that about leveling a city? Weren’t you going to say something?”

The wide-eyed look of airheadedness on Komaeda’s face was both annoying and disturbing in its childishness. “Oh, yes! That!” As if about to give a speech, he cleared his throat, but ended up hacking and coughing like a sick old man with Hajime gently slapping his back. “Bleh…” He stuck out his tongue, which Hajime mistakenly took as a signal to feed him another Haribo, annoying him even more.

“Ahem! So!” said Komaeda through a half-chewed gummy. “Hajime, what do you think is the most important thing in the world?” 

Hajime scratched his chin. “Friendshi-”

“That’s right! _Hope_!” Komaeda beamed. Hajime flinched at the unnaturally wide smile on his face. “But the only way for hope to truly flourish is when faced with despair! Despair has to grow to its largest size before you can properly burn it down to the roots with hope! Only those who have faced despair can become true Symbols of Hope!” Visibly deflating, Komaeda sighed, “Sadly, you ordinary people don’t seem to have the brainpower to realise this, so I had to take things into my own hands. Unfortunately, since I’m so unlucky, no one would hire me, so I couldn’t get money to buy equipment for a bomb.”

“A _bomb_?!” 

“Are you deaf? Of course a bomb! Don’t yell in my ear, you clod,” Komaeda scoffed. “But anyway, even though I’m actually quite rich, the people who go over my financials would definitely notice if I spent my family’s money on a bomb. I tried to earn my own money, but couldn’t!” After a pause to eat another gummy, he continued, “That’s how I ended up putting gasoline from one of my cars into a bucket, stabbing myself in the thighs with a kitchen knife, climbing onto the roof of a nearby office building, and then throwing the gasoline everywhere and dumping it down pipes and the like.”

Komaeda waited patiently for another one of Hajime’s typical shocked responses. “Why the hell would you do that?!” cried Hajime. 

Without missing a beat, the white-haired boy immediately chirped, “It’s not much, but even I have a talent, y’know. Just like hope arrives after despair, good luck arrives after bad luck! It’s the natural cycle of this world!” Irritated, Hajime shoved a gummy in his mouth to shut him up, but Komaeda expected this and just swallowed it smoothly. “Thanks to the bad fortune I got from stabbing myself in the thighs, the gasoline landed in a spot illegally installing electricity that was somewhat exposed, which quickly created a large fire.”

Oh no… Oh no no _no_ … Hajime could predict how this ended. 

“Thousands of people ended up dying! The fire reached a bunch of cars, which ended up exploding and causing more damage, demolishing buildings and making them crash into each other! It was chaos! By the time things were under control and the authorities stopped dying, the city was practically no more!” listed Nagito cheerfully with his eyes closed. When he opened his eyes, Hajime jerked away as if he’d been burned. 

Those eyes… Those eyes… Oh no… The darkness, the clumsy, sick imitation of hope (or was that despair?) in them was sickening. It was like a child had smashed the two together. They swirled with madness, with desperate hope, with despair buried deep in his soul… 

“ **Isn't that just fantastic?!** ” 

Silence. 

Komaeda’s chains rattled as he settled down, breathing deeply. 

“You’re sick,” Hajime finally spat out. “You’re insane. You’re a murderer.” 

“Say what you want,” laughed Komaeda, shaking his head in dismissal. “I’m only doing this for the greater good of sheep like you! Hope is what you need to be saved! Being used as a stepladder for those with talent is the greatest honor people like us can have!” His eyes continued to pulse and swirl almost hypnotically...

Hajime made a face of utter disgust. “The hell are you talking about?! D-Don't compare me to you!” he exclaimed, grabbing Komaeda by the collar and pulling him forward. “The world is shit, but it’s not black and white! People can,” he gulped, “y-y’know, work hard or something! A person’s worth isn’t determined by if they have a talent or not, or if they have hope or not. It’s nuanced! Everyone has worth if even a batshit insane murderer like you is valued by someone…” A pause as Hajime tilted his head to the side. “...I think.” 

Komaeda smiled. “So you’re saying someone out there values my disgusting life? Okay, then! Give me a name, Hajime,” he urged. “I bet you can’t even name one person!” 

Oh. Was that a challenge? Was Komaeda challenging him to find someone who valued his life?

_Why the fuck am I thinking like this?! Am I that weirded out by this crazy bastard that I have to act like this?!_

Komaeda lowered his head. “I knew it… You can’t name one person, can you?” He smiled thinly. “With your gutsy attitude, I thought you might actually try to come up with something, but it’s just that impossible...right?” 

His mouth opening and closing like a goldfish’s, Hajime was speechless. What the fuck was this guy’s problem? He’d just been ranting about sacrificing people for hope with _that look_ in his eyes, and now he was acting like a man who’d accepted the chain of death closing around his neck and dragging him down. He couldn’t...he couldn’t do that. That wasn’t fair. He wasn't allowed to make Hajime feel bad like that! 

“Ch-” Hajime swallowed, imagining that he was swallowing his fear and anxiety. Tension ran through his veins as he clenched his fists. “Chiaki Nanami!”

The name hung in the air for a few minutes.

“Huh?” His head tilting to the side, Komaeda blinked.

“Chiaki Nanami cares,” declared Hajime, pointing at the white-haired boy. He pronounced every word slowly, making sure they sank into the other boy’s mind. “She wants you to go to a mental institution for treatment and she was sad when she told me she couldn’t get clearance because of your luck! I wouldn’t call it ‘caring’, but she values your life somewhat! So quit it!” 

A voice in the back of his mind whispered that he was being an idiot, quickly scuttling to the front of his mind. A philosophy like Komaeda’s was clearly not easy to solve, and had been deeply ingrained into his psyche for many years. But if Hajime could just plant the seeds in his mind...then… Then what? It didn’t matter. Screw it. He had to obliterate Komaeda’s bullshit. Why not? It was the right thing to do, so he might as well! 

Dramatically, Hajime crossed his arms. “If you’re acting like this because you think nobody values your life, then you’re wrong!” He added, “Even if it’s just pity that Chiaki feels for you, it still counts!”

The silence was sudden, like the flipping of a switch. It just happened.

With heavy breaths, Hajime hunched over, placing his hands on his knees for support. The pain in his lungs was like he’d run a marathon. Oooh boy… He’d gotten way too worked up over this… His lungs might as well have suddenly disappeared when he realised how out of line he was, because he couldn't _breathe_. The task had been ‘give Nagito Komaeda his lunch’. Instead, he’d accomplished ‘trip like an unlucky harem protagonist and toss said lunch into the fucking stratosphere’, ‘use an insane sociopath as a pillow’, ‘hand-feed said insane sociopath Haribos’, and ‘yell and drag nice girl into association with sociopath’. There was only one possible reaction to all this:

Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, _nope_. 

Hajime turned on his heel and speed-walked back to the platform that worked like an elevator or life or whatever it was called. He pulled on one of the chains and cupped his hands around his mouth to scream at Chiaki to bring him back up. 

“Beam me up, Scotty!” 

That was so lame he wouldn’t be surprised if Chiaki just left him there to die.

Relief and dread flooded him so forcefully when the platform began to rise that he nearly fell off. Even though it had nothing to do with assisting his breathing, he gently tapped his chest with his fist over and over. The rhythm gave him enough reassurance to eventually turn back to glance at Komaeda, who seemed quite small below him by now as the platform rose. Icy fingers walked down his spine when he saw that the white-haired boy was staring at him.

To ease the tension, Hajime waved goofily. “See ya,” he called, right before all the lights turned off, enveloping him in the choking darkness. 

It was oddly comforting when it was so dark he couldn’t see his hand in front of him. He could trick himself into believing he was alone. And that meant he could clap his hands together in prayer and apology to the manager.

_Aaaaarrrghhhaagagahgghhhhhhhhhhhh…! I’m so so sorry, Chiaki!!_ Hajime screamed internally. _I dragged you into my little drama-queen spiel without thought… What was I even saying? There’s no way any of that was true! This is so embarrassing…!_

Oh, shit. Chiaki wasn’t just a nice girl- she was his _boss_ , right? He was definitely going to be fired. Or...or demoted. Or erased from existence- because this was supposed to be a super secret prison, right? 

Hajime placed his hand over his chest, surprised when he felt a lump. Oh… The gummies! 

Even if they were sticky from his sweat (and possibly Komaeda’s saliva?)...at least he still had his Haribos.

How else was he supposed to balance out how salty he was feeling, right?


	2. Day 002, 9:03AM, Hope’s Peak Penitentiary: Steering Committee Conference Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime makes some new friends. Chiaki fulfills her promise. Nagito is a hopey lucky bitch, like always.

Meetings were boring.

Everyone in the Steering Committee thought so, and knew all the others thought it too. However, the unspoken rule was that you could never admit how bored you were. If you did break the taboo, then your social status and respect among your fellow committee members would instantly be obliterated. That was why Byakuya Togami and Kokichi Oma often tried to get the others to admit defeat with long presentations that used very long words like ‘Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia’ or turning off the fluorescent lights in the small meeting room to make everyone sleepy.

However, they finally had something interesting to talk about, so those two tucked away their thesauruses. The eagerness to breach the subject festered in the room, making everyone incredibly fidgety and irritable.

“So, um,” Chihiro Fujisaki was saying, “I propose we start investing more money in the cameras… Mukuro Ikusaba keeps breaking them to try to create blind spots in our security…” The programmer pressed a button on the remote, and the projector switched to a blurry image of what looked like a dark-haired girl in a hood with a knife. The image had been taken from a broken security camera, as evidenced by the spiderweb of cracks that presumably stretched across the lense. Mahiru gasped at seeing a camera in such a poor state. “I-If our surveillance is weakened, other parties could become brave enough to attempt a break-in,” continued Chihiro. “Like Monaca Towa or Mako-”

Splaying himself onto the table, Kokichi cupped his hands around his mouth. “Boooooooring! Are you done now, Chihiro? Let’s move onto the fun stuff!” Ignoring everyone’s protests, he grinned and poked the mauve-haired girl sitting opposite girl. “Heyyyy! Nanachi! It’s your turn for a report now!”

“...zzzz…” snored Chiaki.

“Oh, my!” gasped Sonia from next to her. “Has she fallen asleep?”

“This is ridiculous. Someone wake her up,” Byakuya ordered. He turned to the secretary taking notes in the corner. “Toko! Wake her up!” The girl began to drool, much to the discomfort of those next to her.

Pointing dramatically, Kiyotaka yelled, “Sleeping during a meeting is not welcome in a school environment! We must finish listening to Ms. Fujisaki’s presentation before we ask Ms. Nanami questions about-”

“This isn’t even a school environment,” Fuyuhiko pointed out, resting his legs on the table.

“Advisor Kuzuryu! Get your feet off the table!” The clamor of voices rose and rose as the meeting slowly derailed into petty arguments and discussions. Thankfully, the noise was loud enough to wake up Chiaki, which grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Chiaki? I think it’s time for you to wake up now,” singsonged Miaya. The pink-and-white bunny displayed on the screen attached to her wheelchair mimed poking the manager.

“...Is the meeting over?” yawned Chiaki, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

The Head of Financials cocked an eyebrow arrogantly. “Does it look over? We’re still in the middle of a discussion, you dim-witted fool,” scoffed Byakuya, adjusting his glasses.

“Cool beans. I’m going back to sleep, then.”

With a childish whine, Kokichi threw himself onto the table, grabbing Chiaki by the collar and shaking her. “Nooooo, Nanachiiii! You gotta tell us how the new guy did! I wanna knoooowwww! Did you bury another Reserve Course guy?”

“What was his name again…?” wondered Sonia.

Tenko twisted her face in a grotesque way to express her disgust, saying, “Is knowing the name of a degenerate male sent to help an even more degenerate male really that important?” Mahiru snapped a picture of Tenko’s visage for posterity’s sake. Tenko, however, did not react. She simply continued fuming about this so-called 'degenerate male'.

“Oh, _please_.” The Yakuza rolled his one good eye. “Can we just hear about how Hajime did already? We’ve been waitin’ for a solution for Nagito for ages, and since the new guy isn’t dead, I’ll assume we found it.”

A calm voice pierced through the chaos, directed at the mauve-haired girl. “Let’s hear it then, Chiaki.”

Kyoko Kirigiri was as poised and hard to read as ever, her gloved hand brushing away her pale purple hair from her face. Shuichi stood next to her, pulling the brim of his hat over his eyes nervously.

“Ah...right. Should I stand?” Sleepily, Chiaki stood without permission anyway, walking up to the front of the room. She stood in the way of the projector, with Chihiro’s slideshow being projected onto her and becoming a distorted mess. A certain sharpness filled her gaze as she straightened her posture professionally. Her report began with, “So...um...on February fourth- yesterday- I watched the entirety of interaction between Hajime, a prison guard of Reserve Course classification, and Nagito, Inmate Fifty-Five. It began at 7:32AM and ended at 8:04AM.”

This Hajime guy had lasted... _over thirty minutes_?! Even the most stoic member of the Steering Committee’s mouth hung open. Everyone’s disappointment in Nagito had been a high wall, built over a lifetime’s worth of unfortunate incidents, but Hajime’s arrival had completely blown through it like a wrecking ball.

Holding up one finger, Chiaki went over her observations in a clear, if slow, manner. “The two talked a bit before Hajime went to give Nagito his food, but ended up succumbing to his luck and tripping, throwing the food over the edge into this abyss.” A collective groan came from the Steering Committee, which Chiaki pouted at. “Now, now- it’s a lot better than you think. Hajime ended up showing compassion and feeding Nagito Haribos which I let him bring to boost his morale.”

“H-He gave Nagito sweets…?!,” gasped Mikan, anxiously grasping at thin air like she was strangling someone. “B-B-But…! That’s so unhealthy! Nagito’s health is already-! H-He’s…!” The nurse trailed off into inelegant blubbering about hygiene and toothbrushes.

Placing her hand on her chest, Chiaki argued, “Well...I think it’s good. Hajime’s proving to be an unpredictable factor. If Nagito’s thrown off by him, we might make progress. I mean, Hajime also tried to convince Nagito that his Black-And-White Insanity was wrong and waved him goodbye before he left.” She paused. “Also, he has good taste in Haribos. Hajime’s a good guy from what I can tell. That’s it.”

And with that, Chiaki Nanami’s report concluded.

As the manager sat down, excited murmurs raced through the Steering Committee. What did this mean? Someone hadn’t sucker-punched Nagito Komaeda in the face after spending five minutes in his presence? Was this Hajime guy a _saint_?

“So? What are your personal conclusions, Ms. Nanami?” asked Kiyotaka earnestly. The person who would know the most about what to do would be the manager herself, who had been the most involved in this situation.

The Steering Committee leaned forwards, waiting. Even Toko stopped drooling over Byakuya to poise her pencil over her notepad. Chiaki may have been a sleepy gamergirl, but she was kind and remarkably observant at times. That was one of the reasons she’d been appointed manager of Hope’s Peak Penitentiary.

“...Prison yaoi,” declared Chiaki.

Nevermind. She was a total airhead. Her brain was rotting, full of video games, anime, and manga. She would never achieve anything in life and was destined to die a NEET shut-in despite actually being employed.

Only Miaya, who had dealt with much stranger answers from patients, was able to recover quickly enough to ask, “...U-Uh, how are the two boys, by the way?”

“Nagito’s been a mix of unusually quiet and even more passive-aggressive,” reported Chiaki. Stroking her chin, she thoughtfully added, “Oh, but...I feel like throwing Hajime into a room with someone like Nagito right off the bat was a bit sudden. He got so anxious he thought he was fired and slept in today.” She extended a hand to Tenko and Kiyotaka, mentally including Sakura. “I had to ask all three of our Heads of Discipline to bring him here. He’s napping in the breakroom with Sakura right now.”

Sonia sighed, blowing her golden hair out of her face. This was a tough issue to solve. “So...what do you suggest we do?”

Humming, Chihiro suggested, “Maybe we can somehow get Hajime in contact with Miaya and Mikan to guide him on how to help Nagito…”

“Chiaki… Are you suggesting we have Hajime interact with other inmates?” guessed Shuichi. When everyone’s eyes turned to him, the boy flushed and pulled his cap further over his eyes (how was that even possible? He was practically blind).

“Ooohh! So Haj is gonna make some more friends, huh?” giggled Kokichi. “Sounds fuuuuuuun!” He held up his hand, cheering, “I volunteer to be his new best friend,” only to immediately pull it back down. “Just kidding! I’m the supreme leader of evil! I don’t have time for trivial things like thaaaat!”

Fuyuhiko smacked the back of his head with a book.

* * *

Hajime Hinata wasn’t sure where this massive buff lady and her tan swimmer girlfriend had come from (nor why he was sitting on a sofa next to a vending machine), but he wasn’t complaining. Sakura and Aoi weren’t normal for sure, but compared to Nagito and the other colourful characters he’d met yesterday, they were like an familiar childhood friend he’d known for years, even though Sakura was apparently one of the Heads of Discipline in the Steering Committee and Aoi was the swimming teacher.

“I’m not fired?!” Hajime had gasped when the two explained everything. “Like- I’m not- I didn’t-!” He gripped the material of his baggy flannel shirt in two clenched fists. “I’m at work in my pyjamas right now because you guys kidnapped me out of my house- like, what the hell is wrong with you people?!- after acting like total doofus yesterday...and I’m not fired?!” He held up a hand. “I’m still on Hope’s Peak Penitentiary’s payroll?!”

“Geez, how many times do we have to repeat it?” sighed Aoi. She smiled. “You’re all good, Hajime!”

“In fact, you may even be getting a raise,” Sakura added. “Your bravery in telling off Nagito is the talk of the town. It’s very admirable, considering even I had trouble fighting him.”

Hajime frowned. “Really?”

“Yes.” Sakura crossed her arms. “Along with Nekomaru, Akane, and Gonta, I was one of the people sent to apprehend him after his destruction of Towa City. However, he proved to be a fierce opponent despite his weak body.” Her expression darkened. “Thanks to his luck and strategic thinking, I was nearly killed several times.” The bandage around her muscular forearm was unwrapped, revealing a deep, salmon-pink scar the shape of an ‘H’. “This is what happened when a metal construction pole fell and impaled itself into my arm because I was chasing him.”

“What the hell?! That’s insane! How are you alive?!” Hajime’s lips were parted in horror.

As Aoi stroked the scar and assured Sakura she had done wonderfully, Hajime sat there, completely silent. Then he yelped, “Wait a minute! Just how close did I come to being killed yesterday?!”

“Not at all,” said Aoi. She made a circle with her thumb and forefinger, indicating he had a zero chance of dying. “That’s why you’re here, silly!”

“Right…” Hajime lowered his head, clasping his hands together. “Because I’m so boring and average that I don’t exist to him…”

The two girls exchanged a look of concern, but the door to the breakroom burst open. Akane, Nekomaru, and Kazuichi marched in, followed by a boy whose face was almost completely obscured by the hat he wore, leaving his only identifiable features his greyish skin and pinstripe suit, and a tall young woman with long lilac hair, a purple suit, and studded purple gloves.

Did she bathe in purple or something?

The two stopped in front of Hajime, so clearly they were here for him, but they said nothing. Did they want him to speak or…?

“Hey, um,” Hajime cleared his throat, “does anyone have any clothes I can wear?”

The steely-eyed girl turned to the boy with the hat. “Shuichi, you and he are about the same size, aren’t you? Do you have a spare uniform he can wear?”

“U-Um…”

Through a mouthful of crispy fried chicken, Akane blurted out, “Nahh! Hank’s way buffer than Shoto over there! His clothes are gonna tear!”

Hajime deadpanned. “Who the hell are you talking about?”

Akane rolled her eyes. “You and the guy Chiaki calls Hat Kid.” She jabbed her thumb in Shuichi’s direction. “Oh, by the way, thanks for taking those Haribos back! The buttload of fried chicken Chiaki bought me was all thanks to you!” She winked and slapped his back with her greasy fingers. “I owe ya one, I guess, but don’t count on me to remember!”

Nekomaru patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Akane! As your manager, I’ll make sure to remind you!”

“I’m pretty sure both of you are gonna forget,” said Kazuichi, inserting a few coins into the vending machine. Hajime snorted, making the mechanic grin.

“Wait a sec- Who even are you people?” Hajime pointed at those who he hadn’t been introduced to yet.

“Kyoko Kirigiri, Head of Investigation,” introduced the lilac-haired girl in a curt tone. She crossed her arms. “I investigate the people in here- both the staff and the inmates.” Her gaze seemed to tell him, And that means I’ve investigated you too, buckaroo.

Hajime winced when he looked at Shuichi. It was going to be hard to follow through after such a dramatic introduction from Ms. Edgy Detective over there.

The boy in the hat gulped, completely avoiding eye-contact with Hajime all the while. “...I’m Shuichi Saihara. I, uh, work with Kyoko as the Vice-Head of Investigation.”

Before Hajime could open his mouth, Kyoko held up a finger to silence him. “Hajime Hinata,” she began. “Chiaki Nanami has made the Steering Committee aware that interaction with only Nagito Komaeda is detrimental to your mental health.”

“You could say that,” interjected Hajime dryly. “Y’know, if we’re going out on a limb here. Maybe.”

Shuichi took over from there, saying, “To help you, the Steering Committee has decided to personally help you get acquainted with your job and a few of the less dangerous inmates.”

“We’re investing a lot of time and effort into making accomodations for you, Hajime Hinata,” said Kyoko. “That means we expect results.” She narrowed her eyes, which Hajime guessed was her way of being intimidating, but only made her look sleepy like Chiaki.

Hajime was doubtful, and it showed in the crease of his brow. “Is interacting with so many criminals going to be good for me, though?”

“Well...Chiaki’s told us you’re strong,” Shuichi said awkwardly. “And since you seem to be relatively okay after talking to Nagito, then…”

Pointing at him, Kyoko said, “We’re saying we see some measure of potential in you. We wouldn’t put so much faith in you otherwise. So there’s no need to get emotional over this.”

...Hajime blinked, the furrow in his brow disappearing. His heart felt like it was being squeezed. Was that uncool of him to think? No one had ever said something like this to him… The feeling of contrast between this positive encouragement and Nagito being a douchebag was as refreshing as putting on new underwear on New Year’s Eve.

“Shuchi, what’s he doing?” questioned Kyoko as Hajime clutched at his chest.

“U-Uh, I think...he’s happy we praised him…?” guessed the male. “I-I don’t know! Why are you asking me…?!”

“Ah. _emotions_.” The Head of Investigation made a face at Hajime.

* * *

Hajime felt like he’d seen the coat, trousers, and shirt lent by Kyoko somewhere before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. She couldn’t give any answers either, as she’d apparently just found them in a random cupboard. Well, it wasn’t like there were many deep green jagged-cut coats with hoods and the number fifty-five spray-painted on the back, black trousers with a skull on a chain attached to the pocket, or white t-shirts with a strange, red worm-like symbol on the front, so he was sure he’d eventually remember. Especially since they had such a unique, sharp scent- like bleach or peppermint- with a hint of milk.

As he approached the two girls whose turn came first to accompany him through the prison, Hajime couldn’t help but want to shrink into himself until he was the size of a marble. Not because of the girls or anything! It was just...why did this feel so similar to school, where he got partnered with people he’d never talked to for a school project and then had to do all the work by himself?!

The taller of the two girls introduced herself as Sonia Nevermind, princess of Novoselic and the Head of the Steering Committee, flipping her long blonde hair out of her face and fluttering long eyelashes over pale blue eyes in a movement that was unintentional but oozed grace. Sonia’s royalty certainly showed in her clothes: a well-cut version of the Main Course guard’s uniform trimmed with lace and ruffles.

So, if Chiaki, Hajime’s boss, was below the Steering Committee in the hierarchy of this prison, and the Head of that Steering Committee was here with him and he was a clumsy, blunt idiot…

Hajime died internally.

The girl busy drooling over some perverted fantasy was Toko Fukawa, the Committee’s Secretary, and a legendary writer. Toko wore a sailor school uniform, though her dark, disheveled hair, mole under the left corner of her mouth, and askew glasses made her look like a college student about to collapse from the workload.

“It is very sad that I cannot show you Genocider Syo,” lamented Sonia as they jogged through the hallways. They traveled to the West Lower Level, to the cell exactly opposite Komaeda’s, because the luck of the Ultimate Gambler they were going to see always reacted with his. It was like putting nitric acid and glycerin together.

Nearly forty minutes later and they still hadn’t reached the other side. Just how fucking big was this place?!

“Genocider Syo? You mean that wacky crucifixion fetishist?” asked Hajime to banish the awkward silence, noticing that Toko snapped out of her daydream to glare at him. “Yeah… What a _shame_ I can’t meet them…” He asked, “Why can’t I?”

“Ah, well, Fuyuhiko will not let anyone else see her without his permission,” explained Sonia. “And we must respect his wishes, considering her...identity…” Sonia said nothing more, but that may have been because she was busy unlocking one of the iron-plated doors.

Instead, Toko spoke up, “J-J-Just drop it! You’re probably a-asking because y-you’re a sick hybristophiliac and-”

“Introducing Inmate One-Twenty-Three,” announced Sonia dramatically, slowly pulling open the door the way a game show host revealed the fancy car that was the prize. “Celestia Ludenbeeeeerrrgggggggg!”

Hajime arched his eyebrows. “Why are you introducing her like she’s a pro-wrestler?”

The woman inside the cell had skin so pale she might as well have been made from porcelain. It made the blood-red of her eyes and her ebony-black hair styled into two drill-shaped twintails all the more prominent. Even while wearing a black prison jumpsuit and playing Poker by herself with Hello Kitty playing cards, the woman called Celestia Ludenberg managed to look like the very picture of gothic elegance.

Sooooo...gothic vampires could be pro-wrestlers now, eh?

Celestia hummed. “You are not my usual servants. Have you brought my royal milk tea?”

Hajime frowned. “Who the hell are you calling servants? You’re in prison.”

“Now, now, Hajime,” said Sonia, patting his shoulder. “I understand yesterday was stressful but you must not let it get to you! Treat the inmates well, for they are human beings!” The princess flexed her bicep, becoming starry-eyed. “Today is all about making a friend with one of those who represents the bright future!”

And Toko called him a hybristophiliac…

“Right.” Hajime turned and bowed to the prisoner. “I'm really sorry for my attitude.”

“Is that a yes or a no about my tea?” Celestia tilted her head to the side. “I’ll give you a hint: there is a correct answer, and it is most definitely not ‘no’.”

Hajime mimicked the tilt of her head, his eyes so innocent and wide it was unmistakably sarcasm.

“ _No_.”

The four of them ended up playing cards together, the inmate sitting on her bed and the others on the floor. Toko used every opportunity she could to either badmouth women with big breasts or drool over Byakuya, somewhat affecting how she played. Sonia had absolutely no idea what she was doing- but she had spirit! Hajime and Celestia were the most savvy players, but she always ended up with the right cards. Great. More luck bullcrap.

“UNO!” shouted the princess, throwing her cards down with gusto, a few flying into Toko and Hajime’s faces. “And thus, I win again!”

“We are playing…,” Celestia’s voice trembled with barely-contained rage, “ _Go Fish_ …”

To spite her for being luckier at Go Fish than him, Hajime cheered. “Sonia wins again! Three cheers for her!” No one cheered but him and Sonia, yelling ‘Banzai! Banzai! Hip-hip-hooray!’.

With a smile as sweet as sugar, Celestia asked, “Do you think you’re being _funny_?”

“Not really?” shrugged Hajime. “I’m trying to adapt to a crappy situation with humor.”

“Then you are forgiven,” Celestia said, though Hajime felt she was lying. “After all, adaptability is the most important thing when it comes to surviving, as opposed to strength or intelligence. And that is why Nagito Komaeda is such a dangerous individual.” She smiled. “He is able to adapt to whatever his luck and insanity throws at him, whether it be a plane crash, being saved by hope, or a boy falling on top of him.” Embarrassed, Hajime flushed an angry red.

_A plane crash? Being saved by hope? What does she mean by that?_

_So...Nagito adapts to everything, huh? I guess...that means I should adapt to him, too…?_ Hajime bit the inside of his cheek to temper the disgust he could feel forming on his face.

“N-No,” grumbled Toko. “That guy’s just trash already, so whenever anything trashy happens, h-he’s right at h-home!” She pointed accusingly at the gambler while Sonia and Hajime chortled in the background.

Hajime turned to the secretary. “You can say that again.” He smiled and shuffled his cards. “You know, I’d hug you if you didn’t smell.”

“Since Hajime pointed it out- Toko, would you like to borrow my shampoo?” offered Sonia kindly, adding “Go Fish!” when the gambler asked if she had any queens.

“Sh-Shut up, you bargain-bin-Disney-princess!”

The pale gambler watched this all with amusement as she drew a card from the top of the deck and peered at it. With a sickly sweet smile disguising how smug she felt, she threw down her cards, declaring, “I have all the queens. I win.”

Hajime clicked his teeth. “Wh- Bullshit! Celestia, how’d you win so quickly and easily?!”

“Oh, call me Celeste,” simpered the gambler. A tinge of smugness coloured her smile. “I suppose you could say...I got lucky.”

Hajime’s eye twitched.

_What the hell is with this Ultimate Bullshit?_

* * *

All Hajme knew about the location of the infirmary was that it was at the very top of Hope’s Peak Penitentiary. He had no idea how Chihiro and Miaya, who’d introduced themselves as the Heads of Technology and Rehabilitation respectively after Sonia and Toko had dropped him off with them, remembered how to navigate the dimly-lit, dark stone corridors that somehow managed to be completely straight and all over the place at the same time.

Chihiro and Hajime entered the steel grey elevator. The three stopped at first so that it would be easier for Miaya to exit with her wheelchair. The multitude of small, white unlabeled buttons on the control panel floored Hajime when he saw Miaya press one. Exhausted, he grumbled with petty jealousy about how he didn’t get something so nice, smooth-moving, and clean when feeding Nagito.

_The least Chiaki can do is put up one of those air fresheners used for cars, right?_

Hajime shook his head, slapping his cheeks _hard_. That wasn’t fair of him to ask. Even if his job was important, he was still basically cannon fodder for a murderous psycho. He didn’t have the right to ask for that! He was just...just as unimportant and expendable as ever! The realisation settled in his stomach like a heavy stone falling to the bottom of a river.

“U-Um...Hajime? Is everything okay?” asked Chihiro. Hajime twitched and stared down at the programmer. Huh. Chihiro was kind of cute- a bit like Chiaki, but smaller.

“I…” He nodded. “Yup. I’m good. Just...you know...tired. I’ve been kind of stressed lately…”

Miaya cocked her head to the side. With superhuman speed, she began typing on the keyboard attached to her wheelchair, programming the pink-and-white rabbit on the screen in front of it to chirp, “Aww! Totally understandable! You’ve been going through a lot of changes lately and met a lot of people, which can be draining. That’s why we’re taking you to the infirmary! So you can rest up and maybe get some medicine!”

_It's not worth it._

The only sound the elevator made was when it came to a stop; it emitted a small ding! as the pair of metal doors slid open.

The infirmary appeared to be the only room with any colour in the entire prison. Walls painted various shades of pastel pink and blue were plastered with posters about human anatomy, how to give CPR, and corkboards with post-it notes. A row of clean white beds separated by flower-printed curtains was on the left wall, opposite several counters and shelves stocked with all sorts of medical equipment. A few doors further down appeared to lead to operating rooms and the like. At the far end of the room was a-

“Balcony!” Hajime rushed forward so suddenly he smacked into the large glass doors before the balcony with intricate metal railing. Excited, he grabbed the doorknobs, only to note that, with much disappointment, the doors were locked.

“A-Aaaaaaaahhhh…!” a female voice screamed from behind, making him whip around to see a trembling girl with choppy maroon hair that reached her hair, a beauty mole under her left eye, a white lab coat on top of a black pencil skirt and white shirt, and an alarming amount of bandages wrapped around her limbs.

“Uhm...hi?”

“Y-You mustn’t go on the b-balcony!” she cried. “It’s dangerous! The Main Course Guards’ Infirmary is s-so h-high up…! What if you fell?”

Main Course Guards’ Infirmary? So that must mean there’s an infirmary for inmates, here too, right? guessed Hajime. He asked, “Sorry… But what's the point of having a balcony up here if nobody can go out on it? I just wanted some fresh air.”

“It’s for...aesthetic purposes,” chimed in another girl Hajime hadn’t noticed earlier. Despite the short, pale blue hair that looked oddly stringy, greyish skin, and a studded surgical mask covering her face making her look creepy, her dark suit was nothing if not professional, especially with the addition of a belt with various bottles hanging off it. “Plus, I have to grow some of the plants I use in my medicines out there so they can get sun…”

“Um...I’m guessing you two already know who I am,” said Hajime. They nodded. “Okay, then… Who are you two?”

The bandaged girl flinched. “A-Ah…! He asked my n-name!” she squealed. Sweating profusely, she stammered, “M-My name is Mikan Tsumiki. I’m the Steering Committee’s Head of Health and Hygiene. F-From the bottom of my heart, I hope we can get along…!”

“I’m...Seiko Kimura. I’m the Vice-Head of Health and Hygiene,” said the other girl. “My specialty is, well, chemicals and medicine…”

Hajime smiled. “Well, then, I feel reassured knowing that you two will be here in case I ever get injured or sick.” Mikan’s bottom lip trembled, and then she burst into tears and fell over, startling Seiko. Hajime was frozen between shock and embarrassment when he saw that Mikan had somehow gotten herself tied up in a compromising position with her bandages. Chihiro rushed to Mikan to assist her, while Miaya smiled at a panicking Hajime.

“Yay! Looks like you’ve already made a good impression!” she giggled.

“I feel like we have very different impressions of ‘good’...!,” deadpanned Hajime, which only seemed to amuse her more. “Um...by the way, if there’s a Main Course infirmary, is there a Reserve Course one?”

Once Mikan was standing and had calmed down enough, it was explained that the Upper Level had two separate infirmaries for prisoners and guards respectively, and the Reserve Course had just one for both groups.

 _How cheap. That’s how much someone like me is worth?_ was what went through Hajime’s head. _And it’s only because of Nagito, a fucking murderer, that I’m being treated as special…_

“S-Speaking of which!” With a surprising amount of strength, Mikan dragged Hajime over to the nearest shelf. “I’m so so sorry for asking you and bothering you, b-but could you please give Nagito these the next time you visit him?” She indicated a bottle of pills shaped like little dog heads.

Wincing at the prospect of seeing the white-haired boy again, Hajime nodded. “Okay...but what are they?”

“They’re vitamin supplements I made,” explained Seiko. “Nagito...he doesn’t eat much, so I was asked to make these.”

“Seriously? That’s so amazing, Seiko!” praised Hajime. He could see that his compliment made her cheeks flush, despite the mask she wore.

Helpfully, Miaya chimed in, “The pills are shaped like dogs to make Nagito more willing to swallow them. In the second therapy session I had with him, he told me he used to have a dog when he was child, but it got run over by a truck due to his luck…”

That got depressing fast.

The silence meant Mikan could jump in and plead, “C-Could you please not feed Nagito any more Haribos?” With tears in her eyes, she said, “It means nothing coming from me...but he’s very very sick! His luck’s too bad for me to diagnose him, but he’s practically dying! But he’s too dangerous to approach, especially to feed.” She clung to him. “So...n-now that he can actually be given meals at regular intervals and without an entire armed team...p-please take care of him! I’m sorry! Forgive me!”

Hajime frowned, making her whimper. “Why do either of you even care if he lives or dies? He’s a murderer. He killed thousands of people for,” his face scrunched up in concentration, “-uh, what was it?- _hope_ , whatever that means. He’s a _monster_!”

The infirmary was quiet. Outside, snow at the mountain’s peak shifted, sending rumbling all throughout Hope’s Peak Penitentiary.

“Even so...he’s not completely evil, right?” Miaya tilted her head to the side, staring deep into Hajime’s eyes with her cold blue ones. “You witnessed it yourself. He’s not well, but he’s not completely evil. He thinks he’s helping. That means we should help him in return!”

_...Easy for you to say. He doesn’t look down on you like you’re shit he stepped in._

“But he-”

“It’s not our p-place to decide if someone gets to live or die,” Mikan murmured, picking at a bandage on her arm. “All we can do is try to help.”

Somber, Seiko nodded. “It’s the right thing to do, too. We can’t just...let him die.”

_None of you get it. You guys have talent. You guys are worth something- you always have been. He idolises you._

None of them had borne the weight of the ugly scorn he looked at Hajime with.

“Hajime?” Concerned, Chihiro tugged at his sleeve. “Do you...want to play a computer game? I have a couple that I think you’ll like.”

Miaya sighed. “Maybe we should let him get some rest, like we promised.”

“Would you want some sleeping pills or something?” asked Seiko.

Mikan wept. “Sh-Should I go to the next room so my skanky presence doesn’t disturb your sleep?!”

Hajime blinked. “What does that even _mean_?”

* * *

Lunch, courtesy of Teruteru, was a massive jug of orange juice, a bowl of tonkotsu ramen, vegetables, and rice. Hajime walked out of the cafeteria to find a peaceful place to eat, politely refusing Kazuichi and Kaede’s offers to sit and eat with them and promising he would next time. In one hand he balanced the tray of his lunch. In the other, he had Nagito’s lunch- the same as yesterday’s- orange juice, bowl of rice, a salt-shaker and all.

Nowhere seemed to be any good to eat. Not only because he couldn’t remember his way around, but because whenever Hajime found what he assumed was an empty prison cell he could rest near, a prisoner began banging on the other side of the iron-plated door, screaming and cackling.

His limbs were just about to give out- he was just about to collapse into a crying mass onto the floor and let the mountain absorb him and let him join the maggots and dinosaur fossils- when he spotted a familiar short yakuza.

“Fuyuhiko!” he gasped with relief.

“Why the fuck are you so happy to see me?” interrogated the yakuza skeptically.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You seem like a nice guy,” replied Hajime. He shook his head. “A-Anyway! I know it’s a lot to ask because you’re probably busy, but can you, like, guide me to Chiaki’s office? That’s the only place I feel comfortable here…” He shifted nervously.

“I’m startin’ to think you’re less normal than everyone says,” sighed Fuyuhiko, his hands on his hips. “I mean, calling a yakuza like me nice? You know I’ve killed people with my own two hands, right? And had Pe-”

His words becoming lost in a choke, Fuyuhiko gritted his teeth. He trembled with rage- a deep wrath that was suppressed every day.

Hajime cocked his head to the right. “Uh...Fuyuhi-”

“Just shut and follow me to Chiaki’s office,” hissed the yakuza, marching off. “And don’t say fucking anything either, you got it? I’m not in the mood to hear your bullshit.”

Even though Hajime could tell Fuyuhiko was going through something, he definitely thought he didn't deserve that. “Hey, what’s your problem? Did I do something to offend you?” he asked as he followed the shorter male.

“What the fuck did I say about not fucking saying anything?!”

“Well what the fuck did I _do_?” retorted Hajime. He shook his head. “Ah, sorry... Look, I’m really sorry if I did something wrong.”

Fuyuhiko turned around to glare at Hajime incredulously. “Are you actually fuckin’ apologising to me?” He clicked his tongue. Hajime never believed anything more than the fact that Fuyuhiko had killed people in the moment when their gazes met. Even with only one eye visible, the murderous intent in it was more than enough to make his knees weak with fear. “Now I’m even more fucking pissed off, you son of a bitch…”

A shudder ran through Hajime.

But...thanks to dealing with Celeste and Nagito, he was actually able to summon a retort.

“...My mother’s actually quite nice. She’s not a bitch.”

Confusion replaced the rage in Fuyuhiko’s eye. “...Huh?”

“Her baking isn’t half-bad either, especially when my dad and I pitch in,” continued Hajime, smiling nervously. “If you want, I can give my parents a call and bring over some cookies or something.”

“Are you pegging me as the kind of prissy bitch who’ll like cookies?!” demanded the yakuza.

 _I’m going to die today. If not by pissing everyone off, it’ll be by a heart-attack, because holy shit_ , thought the taller boy. Every rapid beat of Hajime’s heart was so powerful that it sent shockwaves through his entire body that made him shake. The items on the trays he was carrying rattled. “E-Everyone likes cookies… It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Eating foods you like makes you feel better, right? So...I-I’ll bring some over.”

“You say that…,” Fuyuhiko hooked a finger into his shirt collar, pulling nervously “but it’d be embarrassing if everyone knew that the heir to the Kuzuryu Clan likes fried dough cookies…”

“Well then...it can just be our secret,” promised Hajime. “I won’t ever tell anyone without your permission. N-Not because I’m scared of you or anything, but because I respect your privacy as a person!” A bead of sweat ran down his face, so he smiled reassuringly to add weight to his words. “I swear!”

“Ghk-!” was all that came out of Fuyuhiko’s mouth as his cheeks coloured slightly. “Y-You sly motherfucker…” he grumbled. But he still placed his hands on his hips and stated, “Fine, then. If you ever tell anyone, I’ll fucking bury you six feet under! My men work here, so I can have that done,” he snapped his fingers, “like that!”

Without a word, he turned around and continued leading the way to Chiaki’s office.

“Ah, the irony of a literal yakuza heir being a prison guard,” sighed Hajime.

The yakuza glanced at him as they began climbing the spiral staircase. “I’m doing this for a reason. I usually wouldn’t get involved with a place like this, but-” He frowned. “Whatever. Just bring the cookies ASAP and don’t ever tell anyone.”

“Leave it to me,” declared Hajime.

To his surprise, right before Fuyuhiko dropped him off, he gave the taller boy a small nod as goodbye. Not exactly super friendly, but not as distant and angry as he’d been earlier. It was...progress.

“...Hajime? Why are you here?” Chiaki stood in the doorway of her office, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Uhm… This is the only place I felt comfortable eating,” he said. He pointed behind him. “I can leave if you want.”

She shook her head, more awake now. “No, no- you can stay. No one ever visits me, so...this is a nice change.” Chiaki’s mouth formed an ‘o’. “Ah, and I can show you my work.” She waved her hand to beckon him, quietly adding, “I’ve got, um...candy and stuff, if that makes you want to stay more…”

“I’d want to stay even if you hadn’t offered the candy,” replied Hajime, making the corners of her mouth lift up into a small smile.

In the office, he sat down on the floor cross-legged, placing Nagito’s tray of food beside him. His limbs ached and he stretched them out gratefully. It was good to finally sit down and relax after all that walking.

Dropping bags of candy on the floor, Chiaki sat down on her haunches behind him, shuffling closer to show her Nintendo Switch. “I was up all night making this for you. ”

On the screen was the Mii Chiaki had promised to make for him the day before. Hajime would’ve been charmed by it if its resemblance to him was so uncannily accurate. It even had his ahoge… Was that even possible?

“Chihiro had to reprogram some stuff for me to make your ahoge possible,” said Chiaki, as if reading his mind. Seeing that he was unresponsive, Chiaki’s brow furrowed. She stared at the ground. “Um...if you don’t like it, you can say so. I know it’s a little weird.”

“You’ve got a really good eye for detail…” Hajime complimented, swallowing a mouthful of tonkatsu ramen. Chiaki slowly pumped her fists, victorious and pleased. He grinned. “I’m glad to know that at least one version of me can look good!”

Instead of laughing at his self-deprecating joke like he’d expected, Chiaki pouted. “...It looks good... _because_ it looks like _you_.”

Hajime paused with his mouth open, ready to bite into the breaded pork his chopsticks were holding up to his mouth. Cheeks slightly red, he took a few more bites. “Th-Thank- Uh…” He laughed. “Hey, pass me your Switch.”

With something akin to suspicion, Chiaki narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t used to other people touching her consoles. “...Huh? Why…?”

Hajime said nothing, even when she gave it to him. His expression was intense as he shifted to face Chiaki and hide the Switch’s screen from her, his tongue sticking out. After several minutes, he handed it back to her and shoveled the last mouthful of food into his mouth as if to bury his anxiety.

“Oh!” Chiaki’s eyes widened at what she saw. In response to her creation, Hajime had created a Mii that looked like her. It was quite average in a bad way for a first attempt- with a nose too big, a hair colour too brown, eyes too big, a mouth too expressive… It had been dubbed ‘NanaMii’.

“I love it.” Chiaki smiled softly.

Her positive reception stunned Hajime. “R-Really?!”

“This is the first time anyone’s ever…” Blinking, the manager trailed off. She nodded. “I love it. Let’s call yours...HajiMii. NanaMii and HajiMii.”

“I see you’re a fan of dad jokes,” teased Hajime, earning a light elbow in his side from Chiaki as she pouted.

“Dad jokes are classics,” she argued. “It’s just like video games… You...you know...need the classics. They’re the originals. You can always return to them if you’re lonely.”

Hajime said, “Well...you’ve got friends here you can always return to, too,” making her smile yet again.

“...You’re right,” admitted Chiaki. “You’re really wise, Hajime.”

Hell _yes_! He was on a fucking roll! Finally! He wasn’t messing something up or anything! But maybe that was because Chiaki was really easy to talk to. After all, time was flying by as the two continued chatting.

All of sudden he remembered the mission given to him by Seiko, Chihiro, Miaya, and Mikan. From his pocket he pulled out a green plastic bottle of pills shaped like dog heads. He pulled Nagito’s tray closer and dropped two pills into the rice. “Vitamins for Nagito,” he explained when he saw Chiaki starring with curiosity. “Actually- Crap! It’s about time, right?”

He picked up the tray and left the office. Over the edge of the platform that lowered down to Nagito, he stared into the abyss.

_It stared back._

Chiaki stood behind him, her hand on her chest. Remembering yesterday's events, Hajime turned around to ask her, “H-Hey… Can you...come with me?”

She shook her head. “That’s against the rules. For everyone’s safety.” Regret was visible in her expression. “I’m sorry.”

“I-I know,” nodded Hajime, “but...I told Nagito you cared about him…” Hajime added, “Plus, I’d feel reassured with you there. You and Fuyuhiko are the people I know best here.”

“...Do you really think I care about him?”

 _I really did drag her into a steaming pile of crap when I told Nagito she cares about him, didn’t I?_ lamented Hajime. The reason Chiaki was asking such a question was probably outrage, right?

Sensing his turmoil, Chiaki insisted, “Oh no, no, Hajime...I’m not trying to be rhetorical or angry, it’s just that...I can’t tell myself- if I care about him, I mean. I’ve never really talked to Nagito.” Something in her posture told Hajime she would’ve liked to, even a little.

“Yeah, but...you’re a good person. You care about everyone,” he countered.

“That’s- I don’t know about that…” She arched her eyebrows. “...You don’t even know me that well, you know. I could be...a serial killer who wrongly framed one of the inmates here for all you know.”

Hajime deadpanned. “Well, that’s terrifying. I _definitely_ feel much less paranoid now.” He quickly added, “But! Everyone clearly likes you a lot, and they wouldn’t do that if you weren’t a nice person. Even if you’re not a nice person, there’s got to be a little good in you, right? I could tell that much from when we were talking just now. And that little good cares about someone like Komaeda.”

“Hajime…”

What? Why was she saying his name? What was he doing wrong?! Had he offended her or something? Nervous, he rambled, “U-U-Unless everyone here is masochist and you’re a sadist, but even then- sadists can be nice people! It’s just a fetish, you know? A perfectly healthy-”

“ _Hey_.” Puffing her cheeks out in a pout, Chiaki narrowed her eyes. “This is a _prison_. We save talk about our fetishes for the bedroom and for sleepovers or intimate conversations with people you care about…” she said sternly. Her head slowly tilted to the side. “...I think.”

“Uh…?”

Chiaki childishly waved, a small smile on her face. “Bye-bye, Hajime. I had fun hanging out with you today. Come by again if you want.” She paused. “Nobody ever visits often unless it’s for work...so I’m always alone.”

At the moment she pulled the lever and the platform began to lower, something dawned on her: “Ah...Nagito’s alone, too…”

Hajime deadpanned. She’d _just_ realised that?

_He's always alone..._

The journey down to Nagito’s big circular platform deep in the void was as depressing as ever. Wow. How impactful was it that Hajime was already thinking like this? Hopefully, he’d adapt. A hot rush of disdain rose up within him. Hell no- he didn’t want to get used to this…!

Hajime rubbed his cheek, taking care not to drop the tray. “The mood changed so fast I think I’m gonna get whiplash.”

His nose twitched as the platform continued its descent into the darkness. Something was different. Then it clicked: _the smell_

One of those air fresheners found in cars now hung on the chains connected to the platform… The darkness drained its colours and the bitter scent of decay washed out the smell, but it was still there. Had...had Chiaki done this for him?

The emotions in his mind were complexly layered like a wedding cake: joyful gratefulness to Chiaki, guilt that she’d taken the trouble to give him this kindness, frustration that he’d just been thinking of having an air freshener here and confused Chiaki, and bitter anticipation of seeing Komaeda again.

A few minutes after the platform stopped, everything happened just as it had yesterday, which was reassuring in its familiarity. A series of lights attached to a walkway turned on, and a spotlight perfectly illuminated the circular platform where Nagito Komaeda was on his knees and held up by chains.

“...Hiya. I’m back again,” called Hajime, walking towards the white-haired boy.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” sneered Komaeda.

Hajime shrugged. “I mean, I sure do like earning money from my job.” He sighed. “It’s nice to see you’re as approachable as when I left you.”

“Well, Hajime, looks like you’ll have to forgive me for not being the most _hospitable_. I’m a little tied up right now,” said Komaeda sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Oh no- we’re not doing this little back-and-forth today,” declared Hajime boldly, waving his hand in between him and the other boy. “I’m gonna feed you, then book it, go home, and watch my telenovelas.” He knelt in front of the white-haired boy, inhaling deeply.

Blinking slowly, Komaeda stared at him. “I miss that,” he sighed.

“Huh?”

“Watching telenovelas.” Komaeda grinned creepily, laughing, “The despair in them is so magnificent, because it gives way to such hope, right? That’s the kind of thing I want to do- but since I’ll never be able to save people like _hope_ does-”

Hajime shoved a large chunk of rice into Komaeda’s mouth using chopsticks. He smiled. “Eat up, eat up,” he singsonged, giving the white-haired boy another mouthful. “I’ll be back in eight hours to give you dinner when I’m done with this.”

“Are there pills shaped like dog heads in this…?” Komaeda clicked his tongue. “Ah, it’s been out of the frying pan and into the fire ever since you joined…” lamented Komaeda, glowering as Hajime cut him off by holding the glass of orange juice to his lips and tipping it so it would enter his mouth. “What could be more agonisingly boring than starving by myself? Spending time with someone like you, of course. I’m so painfully bored right now I might just die from poor health!”

Hajime rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Don’t be such a drama-queen and just eat your food, okay? I don’t want to do this either.” He frowned, recalling what Mikan had told him. “Oh, shit- ar-are you actually gonna die or something if I bore you too much?!”

“Tch. I hope not,” said Komaeda. “How wasteful would that be? I would just _die_ , not only without seeing the fireworks of hope and despair clashing, but without trying to contribute and fuel the fire!”

“You’ve done enough ‘fueling the fire’ for a lifetime thanks to burning down a city,” hissed Hajime. He raised an eyebrow as he continued feeding Komaeda. “But what’s so bad about just dying? That’s valid, you know? Death is a part of life. What does it have to do with hope-”

“Will you _shut up_?”

Hajime blinked. This hostility in the prisoner’s eyes was new. It was sharp and bright like a knife. The pause he left indicated that he would hear Komaeda out, a fact that seemed to bring him no joy.

Komaeda coldly stated, “You’re doing the thing you did yesterday- the thing where you lecture me and look down on me. You think just because you’re the prison guard here you’re superior?” He snickered, “Oh, my! You really are dull, both in mind and personality. I’ve never seen anyone more worthless than you,” before suddenly leaning forward so close to Hajime that their noses were almost touching. Hajime was frozen to the spot- with fear? Rage? He couldn’t tell. Though he was too overwhelmed to pay attention to Komaeda’s smell, his nose wrinkled.

“I may be tied up like this, but that means nothing,” continued Komaeda. “Hope is just around the corner- it’s about to bloom and burn away all the despair in its magnificence- so something like this is as insignificant as a speck of dust.” The biting, pitying contempt in his voice was the same he used when talking about himself as he said, “Is this Inferiority Complex your hope? How funny! I can’t wait to see a larger hope swallow it up.”

Finally, the prison guard found his voice. “W-Why…?” Why was he saying this to him? Why did Komaeda hate him so much? What had he done? Why was he still here? Why did he feel pity for the white-haired boy, whose harsh words was such a stark contrast to his fragile body that it seemed like her was clumsily overcompensating? Why was he assuming things like this?

“Why?” Komaeda tilted his head to the side in a gesture that was nauseatingly reminiscent of Chiaki, closing his eyes as he pondered. “Well, because… Hm…” His eyes shot open. Hajime stumbled back. _Those eyes_ were back. The ones that were a spiraling, chaotic whirlpool of hope and despair with no end. “... _That's what it means to live, right?!_ ”

Hajime didn’t have to...to sit here and listen to this...! Or watch the white-haired boy’s crazy, impassioned speeches. He could leave now. The job was done. Hajime frowned. “I’m leaving.” He stood up and turned on his heel, the coat he wore dramatically flaring out behind him in an arc.

The second he got a good look at the jagged-cut edges of that dark green coat, Komaeda’s suspicions were confirmed. “I knew it!” he exclaimed. “Hajime, why do you have my coat?”

“This is _yours_?” Hajime turned his head to look at the prisoner, gripping the collar of the coat. He sniffed it. The relief he felt once he smelt no traces of blood was ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. (Why was he even looking for blood?) The coat still reeked of that oddly sharp and soft smell, like stale milk and peppermint.

Komaeda’s eyes narrowed into slits. He said, “Take it off. I have to check if you’re wearing my t-shirt and trousers, too.” Sure enough, Hajime was wearing Komaeda’s clothes.

Despite wanting to punch the white-haired boy most- okay, _all_ \- of the time,Hajime shriveled at the withering look Komaeda gave him, like he was some sort of sick pervert who’d dug through the trash to wear his clothes. He explained, “Uh, K-Kyoko randomly found these in a cupboard near the break room because I came to work in baggy flannel pyjamas.”

“Kyoko?” Komaeda repeated. “Ah, Kirigiri, you mean.” His glower transformed into a bright smile. “Well, if it’s the result of a hopeful Main Course member’s actions, especially someone on the Steering Committee, then it’s fine! What good fortune!”

“How the hell are you okay with this?!” shouted Hajime in shock. “Me, someone you dislike, is wearing your clothes without permission!” His brow twitched.

 _Because he adapts. Adapt. Adapt. Adapt. Remember what that vampire lady said? Hajime Hinata,_ he slapped his cheeks, _adapt for fuck's sake!_

How on Earth were you supposed to adapt? Just shrug things off? That seemed to be kind of working for Komaeda- but that didn’t feel right…

“So, then, is the bleach smell natural or…?”

Against his better judgment and because he really couldn’t be bothered, Hajime knelt in front of the white-haired boy. He placed one hand on Komaeda’s shoulder and leaned forward, burying his face the white fluffy hair. There was a sharp, fresh tang of peppermint? But it was drowned out by an acrid bleach-like smell and an undercurrent of a scent like warm milk.

The greasiness of Komaeda’s hair came as no surprise to Hajime- but his terrible body odor was so potent and deathly it nearly knocked him out. Holy _shit_. Komaeda smelled like rot and filth- like grease- like sewage steeped in bleach soaked in spoilt milk filtered through rotting meat. If his luck and insanity wasn’t enough to put him on a watchlist, his smell alone would definitely have him labeled as a chemical weapon.

Hajime gagged and jerked back so suddenly that he forgot to let go of Komaeda’s shoulder. The prisoner was yanked forward, the combined weight of his weighted straightjacket and body forcing Hajime to fall onto his back. The chains holding him up, Komaeda didn’t fall onto Hajime, instead having his upper half suspended above Hajime with his left leg in between both the other male’s, who’d propped himself up onto his elbows.

They stared at one another with unreadable expressions.

In her office, Chiaki let out a victoriously sleepy cheer: “Prison yaoi…!”

It was then that Hajime noticed Komaeda was shuddering at the contact. He’d done the same when Hajime had smelled him earlier, too. Was he touch-starved?

Well, who was Hajime to judge people for not wanting to touch this creepy marshmallow?

“Hey…” murmured Hajime, raising an arm as if to touch the prisoner’s face.

Blinking, Komaeda swallowed. Hajime had a clear image of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed from this position. The dirt, sweat, and grime coating Komaeda’s milky-white skin stood out brilliantly. He really was quite pretty. “Hajime…?”

Silence.

“You _really_ smell, you know that?” Hajime's raised hand pinched his nose.

Komaeda looked like he wanted to headbutt Hajime right in his stupid face. But instead he just laughed it off. “Of course I do! Fitting for trash like me, no? It’s not like I can be moved to the public showers or bathed. Not only because I’m so incredibly disgusting that touching my naked body is enough to make someone vomit, but because my luck might just kill someone!”

Incredulous, Hajime asked, “How are you not dead from poor hygiene on top of all the other shit you’ve got?”

“Because every Monday Chiaki stands on the platform with a large firehose and sprays water everywhere into the abyss. My luck ensures I get doused in water and don’t catch a cold.”

The image was so funny Hajime couldn’t help but burst out laughing, much to Komaeda’s confusion, until he realised that duty might fall to _him_ , as the new caretaker (i.e. babysitter with the patience of a damn saint) here.

“...Oh no. Hell nah.” Hajime cupped his hands around his mouth, screaming, “Chiaki! I refuse to bathe this damn hopey bastard!”

“Ugh. Stop yelling,” groaned Komaeda. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Done with this bullshit, Hajime caustically spat, “At least I _can_ ,” referring to the fact that Komaeda couldn’t leave to see his mother.

However, it seemed to resonate differently with the white-haired prisoner. His pale green eyes widened and he gaped at Hajime, then letting his head drop so that his forehead rested against Hajime’s collarbone. Freaking Hajime out even more, his body shook with laughter. “You’re right! You’re so right, Hajime! Lucky you, huh?” He grinned at him, showing far too many teeth. “How normal and ordinary of you to say.”

“Did...did I say something wrong?” asked Hajime.

Komaeda skillfully evaded the question like he was dodging someone on the street, sighing, “Go away now, Reserve Course guard. I really hate spending time with you.”

“Rest assured. Your feelings are mutual,” drawled Hajime, shuffling out from under Komaeda and standing up to dust himself off. “But first I have to help you up.”

“What? No-”

But Hajime already had his hands pressing against Komaeda’s chest, pushing for all he was worth. (It was a startling realization for him when he felt Komaeda's ribs through his shirt. This guy needed to eat more, seriously.) There seriously was no reason for him to do this, especially since Komaeda was such a jerk to him...but it was the right thing to do. Plus, he wanted to end the day on a positive note.

Helping this hope-obsessed murderer seemed like just the thing.


	3. Day 004, 9:00AM, Hope’s Peak Penitentiary: East Side, Lower Level

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime is just too thicc. Nagito's secret skill- Harem Protagonist EX- activates again. Chiaki falls asleep in a place where you definitely shouldn't sleep.

“...For a long time, humans have been taught that if you try hard enough, you can accomplish anything. This has become ingrained into our society. Everywhere you look- the Internet, TV, newspapers- they all preach this same hopeful message. _Anyone can be anything! You just need hard work, determination, and friendship, right?_ This is all a lie. If you don’t have talent, if you don’t have hope- you’re nothing but worthless trash.” Komaeda cocked his head to the side at an angle that looked almost painful. Shadows masked half his face, making the pale green of his visible eye seem oddly bright in the harsh spotlight. “Isn’t that right, _Hajime_?”

“So we’re just completely skipping the small talk today, are we?”

Komaeda smirked. “Of all the things to say, _that's_ what you chose? Denying the reality in front of you, of my words,” he shook his head with disapproval, “that’s just what I’d expect from a worthless stepping stone like you!” His eyes narrowed. “But you haven’t even _tried_ to put yourself to use as a stepping stone, instead choosing to arrogantly be idle and dare to spend time with those with talent and worth. I’d almost be impressed by your confidence, if I didn’t know it was actually insecurity and foolishness.”

“Just take your medication, you ass,” said Hajime through gritted teeth, trying to push the spoonful of vitamin-gummy-steeped porridge past the other’s pursed lips. “Quit trying to force your weird elitist views on me already. I’m not interested!”

Komaeda rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like I’m trying to entice you into joining a cult or something.”

Hajime snarked, “Hell no. You’d make a terrible cult leader. You have the charisma of an old man in a white van giving away candy to children.”

“And you have the talent of a fast food employee,” retorted Komaeda, arching his eyebrow. Hajime clicked his tongue. “You’re foolishly naive if you think the world is kind enough for people like you. Only the strong, talented, and hopeful can survive. The rest of society can only have worth if they serve as rungs on the ladder that leads to their full hopeful potential.”

Alright. That was it. Hajime was done trying to feed this asshole, let alone see the humanity in a person who clearly had none. He gave up and threw the spoon back into the bowl of porridge, nearly knocking it over. “Goddamnit. Where did your parents go wrong in raising you?”

The change in Komaeda’s expression was so sudden Hajime didn’t even see it happen. It went from a condescending sneer to the kind of smile one had when recounting a funny story.

“They didn’t! My parents have been dead since I was in primary school!” beamed Komaeda.

Hajime blinked. “Wh… What?!” His brain took a while to process that. The contrast between the white-haired boy’s smile and what he’d said was just too great. Surely nobody would look like that when recounting such a thing.

“Are you deaf or something?” asked Komaeda as he tilted his head slightly, curious. His smile returned, bigger and brighter than ever. “One day, my family and I were planning to board an airplane at San Cristobal Airport after a simply lovely vacation there. But surprise, surprise,” he singsonged, “once we boarded, a hijacker took over the plane!”

Hajime frowned. “And...that hijacker killed your parents…?” Maybe the hijacker had done it when Komaeda’s parents had moved to protect their child or something, and that was the cause of his low self-esteem? It was certainly not out of the question, Hajime supposed, considering the sort of fantastical things that happened around the white-haired boy.

“Don’t be stupid. That’s so cliché,” sighed Komaeda. “A meteorite fell at that time, killing the hijacker.” He paused. “And my parents. They all died instantly.”

“I...it must’ve been...a pretty big meteorite, then…” was all Hajime could manage to say. What kind of bullshit luck was that?! His mind reeled, and he wanted to slap himself. _Wow_ , Hajime! _Great empathy_ , Hajime! Wait, did he really want to empathise with this hope-obsessed mass-murderer, though?

Komaeda shrugged stiffly, the chains keeping him in place rattling. “Well, for a meteorite, it was fairly small- about the size of a closed fist relative to other meteorites.” He laughed lowly, growing louder with each passing second. “Thanks to that- the bad luck of getting the plane hijacked, the good luck of the hijacker dying, and the bad luck of my parents dying- I obtained complete freedom and a large inheritance due to having no other living relatives to take care of me! See? It was really good luck all along, right?! _Hope won_!”

“Are you insane?!” exclaimed Hajime. That was a stupid question to ask. Komaeda had obviously gone off the deep end a long time ago. “Your parents _died_ in a horrible accident and you were left all alone for most of your life! Why aren’t you sad?!”

_I don’t think anything makes Komaeda sad, actually… Does this kind of trauma happen often to him?_

Komaeda smiled. “Don’t be silly! It wasn’t a mere ‘accident’. It was part of my luck, and it gave me the freedom I needed to be able to create hope! It’s fine, isn’t it?” He smirked. “And here I thought you knew _everything_. You at least seem to have that attitude as a prison guard, especially towards me, despite the fact that you’re completely ordinary.”

“So your parents were only hindrances to you, huh?” asked Hajime, his voice louder than he intended. The memories he had of his own parents only fueled his rage. “Is that it?!”

He grabbed Komaeda by the front of his straitjacket and pulled him so close that their noses were touching. He felt Komaeda’s breath warm his face. He could practically count the other’s eyelashes- they were long.

“...Why are you acting like this?! If...if you’re sad,” the anger vanished from Hajime like water evaporating in a desert, “that’s...you know...okay. I mean, it’s not okay that you killed people, but...you’re a person, too.”

A long silence stretched out between them as they stared at each other, during which Hajime realised how close he was to the prisoner and withdrew so fast that he nearly tripped over the bowl and fell on his behind in an effort to not do so. After sighing with relief, Hajime looked up and met the gaze of the white-haired prisoner once more.

“I’m not a person. I’m a stepping stone. So are you.” It was creepy how Komaeda’s mouth moved without affecting the rest of his face. He looked so doll-like and dead.

That was it. Hajime was fucking done. His teeth grinding against each other so hard he feared they would break, Hajime grabbed the bowl, scooped up a spoonful of porridge, jammed it into Komaeda’s mouth like he was jamming his car keys into the ignition of a car that wouldn’t start, and then thundered away onto the platform that would take him back to Chiaki’s office.

* * *

The next time Hajime had to feed that bastard Komaeda his food, barely a word was exchanged. They were overly stiff and formal. The whole interaction took only around five minutes.

After that last interaction, Chiaki had been waiting for him when he returned on the platform. “...Back already?” she’d asked.

“Yeah. Why is that so shocking?”

A frown had crossed her face. “You and Nagito...got into a fight...right? I don’t think you should just...let things boil over. He’s...Nagito, but having a negative relationship with anyone is...bound to bring your mood down.”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. All the things are fine,” had been the reply of Hajime, who was not fine.

But now, after he’d visited Komaeda again, he was starting to see what she’d meant. All he could think about was that guy. It was irritating, and it was irritating how much he let himself be affected by this. It was just part of his job, right? There was no need to be so invested.

So, then, why...did Hajime feel so, so-

 _Nevermind_. That white-haired bastard had taken up most of his free time he’d had for lunch with his long hope rants and philosophical debates as he tried to impose his worldview onto Hajime to make him join the side of hope (also known as the Low-Key Trash Cult). Since they weren’t talking now, Hajime supposed he could take up Kazuichi and Kaede’s offer to sit with potential homies at lunch and do things.

“Hey! Background Character! C’mere!”

Hajime looked up from the cafeteria table he sat at after a long few seconds of staring at it blankly. To his left was that rude blonde girl from about three days prior. Her name was...Miu Iruma, right?

“Yeah? What is it?” asked Hajime. He stood and pushed his tray of food away.

Pointing at him dramatically like they were in a class trial to figure out who the murderer amongst them was, Miu declared, “You’re gonna be the next test subject for my invention!”

“Wh...what?!”

“Miu! For the sixty-ninth time, _you have to ask for consent first!_ ” someone yelled. Hajime jumped when he noticed that the other blonde girl (Kaede?) had shown up behind him, Fuyuhiko standing next to her and facepalming.

“Hah! Who needs consent when you have innovation?!” cackled Miu.

Fuyuhiko shouted, “What kind of fucked-up world do you live in? You always need fuckin’ consent, you dumbass!”

“Except if you’re arresting someone,” added Kaede.

Hajime shot Miu a look of apprehension. “...I’m not being arrested, am I?” he asked.

The blonde huffed. “‘Course not! You’re just about the plainest guy here, so if one of my inventions works on you, it’s bound to work on the rest of the brain-dead idiots here!”

 _Wow. Thanks, Miu,_ Hajime snarked internally. _Why is everyone here out to destroy my self-esteem?_

She then proceeded to take out a strange invention: a ball-looking thing, with unidentifiable grey and red things protruding from it, which she threw towards Hajime. Right before hitting him, it unfurled, revealing long black wires which curled all around Hajime, being particularly tight around his chest, restricting his breathing. More than it was intended to, at least.

“Wh…! What is this?!” wheezed Hajime.

“It’s my new invention!” declared Miu proudly, like that explained everything and made it fine.

“Shit on a cracker- You fucking shit-for-brains!!” Fuyuhiko delivered a swift karate-chop to Miu’s side, making her double over.

And then she moaned.

“H-H-Harder…! Do it harder…!”

Hajime wanted to die.

“Fuyuhiko!” gasped Kaede in a scolding tone. A mixture of shame and disgust appeared on the yakuza’s face, only to vanish when Kaede used both hands to grip Miu’s face with the power of a thousand wrathful gods. “You’ve got to be more assertive!”

Hajime deadpanned as Miu began screeching (she was probably moaning again, but he chose to interpret it differently for his own sanity) like a banshee. What the hell was wrong with everyone here?! Did talent make you insane?!

The restrictions on his breathing eased slightly when Fuyuhiko began tugging at them with surprising strength for someone so small. The yakuza turned his head to yell at Miu. “Oi! How the fuck do you turn this monstrosity off?!”

“Why would you wanna turn off somethin’ so amazing’?!” scoffed Miu, earning herself more cheek-pulling from Kaede.

It turned out they didn’t need a way to turn it off. The wires abruptly snapped, and the invention clattered to the ground like trash. Only Miu seemed to be distressed at its destruction, falling to her knees while the others sighed with relief.

“It must be nice to be breathing again.” Kaede smiled at Hajime.

He deadpanned. “...Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“We need to put her on a leash,” Fuyuhiko sighed, jabbing a thumb in Miu’s direction.

The kinky inventor gasped, her cheeks red. “A... _leash_ …?! Really?!” She smirked, “Hah! I knew you’d be into that kinda thing!” and was promptly attacked again by Fuyuhiko and Kaede.

Stroking her chin, Kaede wondered, “Why did it even snap in the first place?” Hajime looked down at his chest. He poked it. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

“Hey! What the hell happened here?” Kazuichi surveyed the scene with one eyebrow raised. “Ah, so Miu was back at it again, huh?” He walked up to Hajime and slung an arm around his shoulder, ignoring how the taller boy made a face at how uncomfortably forward he was being. “Don’t worry, dude. You’ve just gotta be more assertive with her and you’ll be fine!”

Nervous, Hajime scratched his cheek. “Does a Reserve Course guard like me have the right to do something like that? I wouldn’t want to get fired or something.”

The pink-haired boy blinked. “Oh, right- you’re one of _them_.” He shrugged, missing the way Hajime’s expression crumpled slightly. “Well, I guess you do? You’re being treated like one of us, especially by the Steering Committee, aren’t you?” He looked at Fuyuhiko, who huffed.

As if on cue, the shortest member of the Steering Committee peeked out from behind Hajime, almost like he’d been there all along. “Well, it’s not like you’re doing anything as important as dealing with Spoiled Milk-Trash, right, Kazoo? All you’re doing is taking up space!” mocked Kokichi with a cheerful smile that sent shivers down Hajime’s spine in its similarity to Nagito’s expressions.

There was quite a bit of screaming from the surprised Miu and Kazuichi before they both collected themselves.

“Hey! My name’s not Kazoo and you know that, you gremlin!” Kazuichi shook his fist.

The shorter boy sniffled, “Y...you’re so mean…! Why would you say that about meeeeeeee?!” Kokichi burst into tears, prompting Hajime to scoot away from him. Only to be disheartened when he saw that Kokichi was clinging to him like some sort of koala bear. It that quickly changed to confusion when Kokichi grinned, all traces of sadness gone. “You better watch the way you talk to me, Kazoo! I could fire you and the cum-dumpster Miu any time I liked! I am the Vice-President of the Steering Committee after all!”

Miu yelped, “C-Cum-dumpster…?!” For his own safety and sanity, Fuyuhiko gripped Hajime’s face and turned it away from Miu.

“...Can I sue her?” Hajime pointed at the panting blonde without looking at her. “Like, for assault? And putting my life in danger?”

Kokichi shrugged. “I mean, I’d _like_ to let you sue that pea-brained bitchlet, but Sonia won’t let me do that without good reason. Was your life actually in danger?”

“He fuckin’ couldn’t breathe!” pointed out Fuyuhiko angrily.

Kaede’s smile directly contrasted his aggressive demeanor. “It did snap on its own, though, so I guess we should be thankful for that!”

“Hajime was just too thicc, huh?” Kokichi placed both arms behind his head.

“...You’re all a bunch of crackheads,” sighed Hajime, facepalming. “So, can I sue Miu or not?”

Annoyance churned in his gut when the purple-haired boy shook his head helplessly. “No can do, Haj. That would involve legal action. What happens in Hope’s Peak Penitentiary stays in Hope’s Peak Penitentiary.” He threw up his hands. “We’ve got to keep anything concerning our guards or prisoners an absolute secret. That’s why we cut off Towa City’s communication with the rest of the world.”

 _What_? Hajime’s brow furrowed. No, no- the isolated island known as Towa City was just experiencing a city-wide blackout and the bridges connecting it to the mainland had just been destroyed. That was what it’d said in the news. That was the truth, right? There was no way they’d hide the death of thousands of people like that, was there? The city Komaeda had destroyed _couldn't_ be Towa City.

Seeing the confusion on Hajime’s face, Fuyuhiko clarified, “There’d be no way to take that bastard Nagito to Hope’s Peak if the rest of the world knew what shit went down. This whole place and the people in here technically don’t exist once they set foot inside, y’know.”

His throat wouldn’t work. Hajime couldn’t find the words. “You...you can’t just... _do_ that…”

“Yes we can~!” cheered Kokichi. He placed his finger in front of his lips like he was shushing someone. “We can erase any event or person we need to in order to preserve the safety of the public and keep things on the down-low. Chihiro’s even designed machines to manipulate memories. Thank goodness Towa City was conveniently on a remote island! Must be more of Marshmallow-Head’s luck in action.” A wry smile crossed his face. “Don't look so bummed-out! This is for the sake of hope, or whatever it is that Nagito loves so much.”

_Fuck hope. Fuck all of you._

Hajime’s eye twitched. They’d covered up the deaths of so many people, just to get Komaeda and preserve their secrecy? What kind of twisted logic was that?! A vein throbbed in his temple.

Crossing her arms, Kaede sighed. “Maybe we should have debriefed him about more than just what his job was…”

“I mean...I guess you’ve got a point,” admitted Kazuichi.

“Th-This turned really unsexy…” Miu twisted her fingers.

Kokichi smiled in a casual yet threatening manner, like a cat cornering their bird in an unlocked cage. “Sakura mentioned Towa City a few days ago, didn’t she?” A hard finger poked Hajime in the chest. “It’s your own damn fault for not listening to her properly, Haaaaaaj!” The shorter boy blinked with wide eyes. “Wow, okay- you really are thicc.”

“Wait, seriously?! Lemme feel!” begged Miu, making groping motions with her hands. Kaede slapped them away and proceeded to kneel aggressively to embarrass her into not being such a kinky inventor.

A sigh escaped Kazuichi. “We really need to figure out a way to deal with her…”

The sudden change of topic pissed Hajime off even more. They were acting like his discovery was a small argument or something! This was serious. These bastards had the nerve to cover up all those deaths! He wondered how many other people this had happened to. How many people had been forgotten and treated like collateral damage in the wake of the disasters caused the prisoners and guards here?

 _Did...Chiaki have a part in this? Has she covered up deaths?_?

Burning, searing heat spread through his veins. A drop of sweat fell from his chin. He felt sick. Chiaki...she’d been so nice, but she might actually be as dubious as all these other scumbags. Damnit. Damnit, damnit!

“Can I quit?” he asked Fuyuhiko, the only reasonable person currently here. His only answer was a shrug.

“You can...but Chihiro’ll have to erase your memories and you’ll probably be tailed for the rest of your life, since you’ll be considered a threat to security. Then you might get assassinated by us or our enemies.” Fuyuhiko stared at the ground, seeming slightly ashamed. “But, uh, that’s the case for all the guards here, so...yeah.”

Hajime groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s no way to win, is there…? I don’t want to die working this job or have my memories erased!” he yelled. The sound was lost in the chatter of the cafeteria. It pissed him off. Everything pissed him off.

“I-It’s not _that_ bad here, is it?” Kazuichi was sheepish. “I mean, you’ve got us! Your new homies! Your soul brothers!” He glanced at Miu and Kaede. “And sisters- soul sisters!”

Hajime supposed Kazuichi had a point, and he was at least a little grateful that the mechanic was sort of offering to be his friend. But goddamnit- friendship was not the most important thing here!

_Whatever. Fuck it. I'll deal with this at home when I cry myself to sleep or something._

Clearing his throat, Hajime asked, “Why...do you guys even have memory-wiping technology?” His voice skipped on that last past. It seemed like something out of a goddamn anime. And yet, apparently it was real. Oh well- the way his week was going, they might as well reveal aliens existed and had secretly taken the place of his parents.

Kaede held up a finger. “That stuff is mostly for the more dangerous criminals here. Like Angie Yonaga- her art is really something, but her charisma as a cult leader contaminates anyone who approaches her, so we have to wipe the guard’s memories of collecting her art to put in museums.” A sheepish pause followed. “Plus, her art is...an acid-trip.”

Hajime cocked his head to the right. “Okay...but why would you guys accept her art and put it on display in the first place?”

“And pay her!” added Kazuichi.

“And pay her?!”

Miu threw back her head and howled with mocking laughter. “This is a fuckin’ penitentiary, you limp-dicked dumbass! The prisoners work! Apparently, it’s ‘a waste of talent to not put them to use for humanity’s greater good’ or whatever.” She scoffed. “If ya ask me, those shady Committee bastards are just looking to profit off their prisoners. They’ve already got this golden-brained girl genius workin’ for them and they want more- they could at least take me out on a date before they fuck me!”

“...No one’s fucking you,” sighed Hajime, massaging his temples.

To his surprise, Miu whimpered, shrinking in on herself like she’d been attacked. “Wh-Why are you being so mean…?! Wh-What did I do to you…?!”

“Yeah. She does that,” was all Kaede said. Hajime made a face of pure confusion. The mood-swings here were going to give him freaking whiplash.

“As expected of a trashy bitch like Miu,” chuckled Kokichi. He leaned uncomfortably close to Hajime, starry-eyed. “Hey, hey- since we mentioned it, I bet you’re really curious to see some of Hope’s Peak Academy’s best and brightest in action, riiiiiiiiiiight?”

“Not really-”

“Great! Then let’s go!”

_Oh come on!_

* * *

Shuichi’s face was a blurry reflection on the iron-plated door as he unlocked it, but his anxiety was still as visible as ever. Maybe joining Hajime, Kokichi, and Fuyuhiko out of pity hadn’t been such a good idea, but Hajime still appreciated the company. Shuichi was trying his best!

“Well...here we are. Inmate Twelve-Fourteen: Gundham Tanaka,” announced the boy, pulling his hat over his eyes. “Why did you even choose to come here?”

“Haj was curious!” answered Kokichi. “If he chose this specific prisoner, I bet he’s eager to meet a fellow furry!”

Hajime narrowed his eyes. “Dude, _you're_ the one who led me here.”

“Whaaaaaat? No I didn’t,” Kokichi scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “You believe me, don’t you, Shuichi?”

“Um…” The young man blinked. He averted his eyes. “Not really…”

The yakuza rolled his eyes. “Who’d believe a liar like you, Kokichi? Practically everything that comes out of your mouth is bullshit.”

As the purple-haired boy began crying crocodile tears and calling Fuyuhiko ‘Boss Baby’ and a ‘malnourished fetus child’, Shuichi and Hajime exchanged a weary look of kindred souls who had to put up with bullshit daily. They completely ignored Kokichi’s screaming when Fuyuhiko began chasing him around with a switchblade he kept in his jacket.

“...You’re probably wondering who Gundham Tanaka is,” guessed Shuichi. “Well, he’s...a character, that’s for sure. He was arrested for freeing hundreds of animals from circuses and zoos and letting them run wild. This led to...well, a lot of collateral damage and casualties.”

“Eh. Can’t be any worse than Komaeda,” shrugged the brunet.

“...My condolences.”

The first thing they heard upon opening the door to Gundham’s cell was a tremendous squealing. Opening the door further revealed a young male around Hajime’s age, though quite a bit more muscular. His skin was ashen grey- a colour similar to the streaks in his dark hair styled upwards. Like with Celestia, he managed to exude an aura of menace that was practically tangible despite the unflattering black prison jumpsuit he wore.

He was petting a massive boar with bristling fur like it was a puppy. Hajime had to admire his guts, if it was actually guts and not him being delusional or having a disturbing lack of concern for his safety.

“Hoh! Who goes there? Friend or foe? What business do the likes of you mortals have with one such as I?” boomed the prisoner.

“I-It’s just us, Gundham. We’re here to see you work,” said Shuichi.

“Hello?” Hajime waved nervously, stiffening when he felt Gundham’s piercing gaze focus on him. He was still petting that goddamn boar. Silence pervaded the large cell. It gave Hajime time to take in the straw littering the floor, the staggering amount of supplies, and the glass wall parting the cell and another room that appeared to be full of different pens with various types of animals.

The awkwardness in the air vanished as Kokichi barrelled past the two taller boys like a rhino and greeted in a loud voice, “Gundhaaaaaaaaaaaam! How ya doin’, my favourite furry? Did you finally make some friends other than those lame animals?”

“How _dare_ you!” gasped Gundham, pressing a hand to his chest. “You ignorant little flap-dragon! You know nothing of the majesty of these creatures!” He spread out his arms. “It is only because of our practically bottomless well of mercy that you, the fool-born scut to end all fool-born scuts, are allowed to continue existing in this plane of existence! Beg for forgiveness, you swine!”

The boar squealed again.

With sudden tenderness, Gundham scratched its ears. “No, no- not you, Inosuke. You are a good boy.”

Well, that kind of wholesome to see. Hajime leaned down and whispered to Fuyuhiko, “What does this guy actually do?”

“Breeds animals.” Fuyuhiko pointed at the room on the opposite side of the glass wall. “When he needs to take of those guys, a section of the glass, like, retracts into the floor because- surprise- it’s actually a door or something. And then they let in a couple animals for Gundham to take care of.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to give him so much freedom?” Hajime questioned with his brows furrowed. His back was beginning to ache from leaning down so far.

“Well, it’s not like he’s a bad guy,” said the yakuza. Hajime doubted Fuyuhiko was one to talk. The guy was a literal yakuza. His standards for ‘not a bad guy’ were probably...quite low. “He’d never hurt any animals at least. Plus, if he had staff to help him around, it wouldn’t work. He’s the one with a badass animal breeding talent.”

 _Talent... Talent can give you so much freedom_ , thought Hajime wistfully as he watched Gundham inspect Inosuke the boar while shooing away Kokichi. _Talent makes you needed by others. Talent makes you worth something._

_I wonder what that's like._

“You there!” Gundham pointed at Hajime dramatically. “I have not seen your visage before. Reveal your true name and self or face the consequences!” As if it was a threat, Gundham began to slowly unravel the bandages wrapped around his left arm that Hajime hadn’t noticed until then.

His heels clicking together, the prison guard saluted and introduced himself, “My name is Hajime Hinata! I’m the Reserve Course guard formally tasked with feeding,” his expression soured, “... _Nagito Komaeda_.”

“Ah. You are the poor soul of whom rumours have been flying about like bats,” said the breeder with a nod. “I see he has been a most destructive influence on you.” He glared at the other guards. “Shame on you for subjecting a lowly mortal to the presence of the physical embodiment of the flippant whims of fate themselves! He clearly cannot handle such a thing!”

_I appreciate you trying to get me away from Nagito, but do you really have to make it sound like I'm some damsel in distress?!_

Shame made Fuyuhiko and Shuichi turn their heads away. They’d had no other choice. On the other hand, Kokichi sailed past Gundham’s personal bubble and got incredibly close to his face, trapping him between his small body and the glass wall behind him.

“Oh? Are you volunteering?” asked Kokichi. His expression was grotesque. The shadows themselves seem to have morphed to frame his face in a way that made his purple eyes bug out, his open-mouthed smile seem like a bottomless chasm. “You wanna go play with Nagito instead of Hajime?”

“You...rank urchin! G-Get away from me…!” demanded Gundham, sweating bullets. His main concern seemed to be the fact that Kokichi was nearly touching him rather than the threat of spending time with Komaeda.

Kokichi’s smirk widened. “N-”

Hajime yanked him away from Gundham like he was ripping off a bandage. “Hey- stop that. Just because he’s a prisoner that doesn’t mean he’s not a person. You can’t invade his personal space like that!”

“Stop, please! Y-You’ll get in trouble,” exclaimed Shuichi. It wasn’t clear if he was talking to the prison guard or his fellow Committee member.

Kokichi, who was hanging by the scruff of his neck in Hajime’s grip, tilted his head so he could look up at the taller boy. The blank expression on his face was almost as terrifying as his earlier one. “Hajime...if you were jealous that someone else was gonna take Nagito from you, you should’ve said.”

Hajime deadpanned. “Why the fuck would I be jealous?! Do I look like the kind of idiot that would carry a torch for that weirdo?!”

“I mean, you _do_ give me hybristophiliac vibes!” Kokichi smiled playfully, giggling. “That’s a lie! But taking care of Nagito is the only thing that makes you unique, riiiiiight? If you don’t have that, you have nothing!” Hajime’s vision swam. With every word that came out of Kokich’s stupid little mouth, he felt his face grow hotter with humiliation and rage. The smaller boy’s expression was still eerily calm, his eyes as flat and dead as a snake’s. “You’re just an average background character without Nagito. The kind of person we cover up the death of all the ti-”

Two things happened at once then. The first: Fuyuhiko moved as if he was about to bitch-slap Kokichi. The second: Inosuke punted Kokichi instead.

“ _OOF_ -!” grunted the small boy like a Roblox character when they died. He slumped against the nearest wall.

Shuichi rushed over to help him, asking, “Kokichi, a-are you okay? Why would you say something like that?”

Wheezing, the small boy simply placed his hands behind his head and grinned. “It was a lie~! I wanted to see if he’d be any fun to play with!”

“Oh… Stop treating people like this, Kokichi! It’s really...not nice at all!” Shuichi bit his lip. “I-I mean, you'll always end up getting hurt, too!”

Shaking his head, Hajime stood beside Gundham. Distracting his mind from replaying Kokichi’s words over and over with this chuunibyou weirdo seemed like the best option for now.

“So...this is Inosuke, right?” Hajime pointed to the boar, who had returned after obnoxiously snorting in Kokichi’s face and was now nuzzling Gundham’s hand.

“Yes. Inosuke is simply the nickname given to his vessel, though,” answered Gundham. “Just like the names San-D, Jum-P Maga-Z, Cham-P are for my Four Dark Devas of Destruction.”

Ah. These must’ve been more of Gundham’s pets, Hajime deduced. If he was talking about them so highly and he had a freaking boar, then they were surely some great, massive creatures. Probably elephants or whales. Maybe dinosaurs. He wouldn’t put it past those with talent.

“Where are they?” asked Hajime. He followed the direction Gundham was pointing in with his eyes, into the other room with the glass wall, past the howling wolves, past the bulls foaming at their mouths, past the chihuahua vibrating with pure, unadulterated rage hotter than the sun itself.

And he was met with four, adorable little hamsters in their hamster cage.

Of course he was.

“Oh! ...You must take really good care of them! They’re pretty cute,” smiled Hajime. Stammering incoherently, Gundham’s cheeks became a fiery red that practically glowed upon his pale skin. His hand moved to pinch something by his neck and pull it up over his face, but there was nothing there. The redness in his cheeks only grew when he realised this.

“They are not cute! They are my right hand generals of the forces of evil!” declared Gundham, clearing his throat so that his blush would vanish. “It is truly the greatest of a series of unfortunate events that they were separated from me, but at least Hope’s Peak Penitentiary recognises the danger there is in keeping us too far apart from each other.”

“Right. Makes sense.” Hajime folded his hands in front of him. “So, you’re a breeder, huh? Does Inosuke have anyone to, uh, breed with?”

“Inosuke is a strapping young boar with a plethora of potential mates!” Gundham laughed, proud. “The ones he has the highest compatibility with are named Tanjiro and Aoi!”

Exasperated, Fuyuhiko shook his head at this discussion- everyone here was seriously insane- but a small smile crept onto his face. At least Hajime seemed to be doing better now. Gundham rarely opened up to anyone like this either. Kokichi and Shuichi were off...talking about secret Committee stuff that they didn’t trust Fuyuhiko with because of the _unique_ circumstances of his joining the Committee. Well, they could go fuck themselves, in Fuyuhiko’s humble opinion.

Hajime cocked his head to the side. “How exactly do you find compatibility with animals?”

His arms folded across his chest, Gundham was all too happy to answer, “Most breeders try to look for desirable characteristics and try to deprive animals of contact with other mates in order to artificially create an atmosphere between the two. I, however, find this barbaric. Animals are largely creatures of instinct, and breeders should decide the best partner for them based on one emotion- a thoughtless, random one that strikes like lightning from the heavens and leaves even the strongest warrior weak at the knees and vulnerable to both happiness and betrayal!”

“And that is?”

“Love!” Gundham pointed at Inosuke. “He who feels his stomach churn, his heart rate quicken, his throat close up, the sky collapse and the floor vanish beneath his feet and leaves him tumbling through an abyss of mood-swings and anxiety upon thinking of a certain someone- that man is in love!”

Hajime winced. “Please phrase it differently. Now it sounds like I’m in love with Komaeda.”

“ _Ugh_.” Everyone in the room was unnerved by the prospect.

* * *

Chiaki Nanami disliked protective riot gear.

 _Dislike_ was a strong word for someone like her, who believed in trying to be a little kinder the next day than she’d been the day before to make the world a better place. But this dark, heavy suit not only had at least four layers and a massive plastic helmet that was so big it balanced on the crown of her head, ready to fall over her eyes at any second, but had so many belts haphazardly slapped on it she looked like a _Final Fantasy_ character. (...What was the point of this asymmetrical ‘three belts on one boot, two on the other’ look?) And the riot shield with _Hope's Peak Penitentiary: CORRECTIONS_ stamped on the front in large black letters was awkward to hold and too big for her petite frame.

She disliked it.

But...it was a necessary precaution, considering it was Nagito she was visiting.

Right. Her entire being snagged on that one thought: That she was visiting Nagito. For the first time in...forever.

The last time she’d talked to him face-to-face had been about a year ago, and all her games had instantly started bugging out, with the characters clipping and clopping so much she nearly mistook them for horses.

But that was all the more reason why Chiaki needed an answer to the question that had been plaguing her for several days: did she care about someone who destroyed everything they touched, even if it was just unintentional? Even if it was intentional?

Hajime seemed to think so- but Hajime was a nice person, but...he didn’t really know her. Still, he was a realist, so maybe there was some truth to his words. Maybe.

“Okay… I should...go,” Chiaki told herself. She stared at her door, waiting. Nothing happened. “I should go...now. Now…”

Wait- in real life, you were supposed to actually _walk_ instead of just clicking on doors and magically teleporting to the next area, right? That was...a bit tiresome.

Chiaki grunted as she pushed open the door to her office and the shield got caught in the doorframe, resulting in a long sequence where she kept trying to make it fit through that belonged in a slapstick comedy routine. She decided to ditch the riot shield and just brought several body pillows with her. That would definitely help.

“Are you sure you can do this?” asked Chihiro from behind her.

Chiaki gave her friend a thumbs-up. “I’m sure. I just need you to lower and raise the platform for me.”

“Well...okay.” Chihiro gulped. “Please be careful… A-And remember to scream if he does anything!”

“Nagito...wouldn’t hurt me,” said Chiaki. It wasn’t clear if she was confident or trying to reassure herself. “I mean...not intentionally. So long as I don’t do anything despairful and have quick reflexes...I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have quick reflexes, though. You’ve been up gaming for nine days straight while running on cup noodles and Mountain Dew...”

Chiaki stepped onto the platform without a word. Exhaling, the programmer pulled the lever. Chiaki looked practically starry-eyed when the platform began to lower, as she’d never experienced it before, making Chihiro let out another sigh. Would the manager be okay? Well, Chihiro would be watching on security cameras, and they had a bunch of remote-controlled machineguns mounted on the walls, so it wasn’t like Nagito couldn’t be terminated if he became a threat. Everything would be totally fine...right?

Right before she vanished below her friend’s line of sight, Chiaki smiled. “...Those cup noodles were high-quality.” She made an ‘ok’ sign with her hand. “I’ll be...fine.

The light of her handheld console as she played Persona 3 was her only weapon against the blanket of darkness. The upbeat music that played as she utterly destroyed all her enemies in swift, concise attacks with little to no effort was comforting. Chiaki became so immersed in clearing the next few levels and working on her Social Links that she completely forgot about Nagito and didn’t notice when the platform came to a shuddering halt. Nor when all the lights on the walkway or spotlight switched on with clicks that reverberated through the abyss.

Almost twenty-fives minutes later, she remembered her mission when she saw a drop of sweat plink onto her screen. The riot gear was much too stuffy and the pillows jammed under her armpits too heavy. But she _needed_ them!

Nagito Komaeda looked even gaunter than the last time she’d seen him. She supposed that was to be expected. After that fight with Hajime, he’d basically lost his only friend.

But Chiaki was going to change things! If things went well, Nagito would at least still have one friend after this.

“Oh, my!” Chiaki flinched as Nagito looked up to meet her gaze before she’d fully crossed the length of the walkway. “Is that Chiaki Nanami herself? Coming to visit scum like me? I must be hallucinating from hunger because such a thing is more unlikely than me escaping this prison!”

“...I’m...here,” said Chiaki. “How are you...Nagito? It’s...been...a while.”

He smiled mysteriously. “Quite well, thank you! And even better now that you’re here.” He chuckled. “Though, sending someone like Hajime to bore me to death was a bit cruel, no? But I suppose it’s what I deserve. It’s like in science- ‘like dissolves like’ and whatnot.” His eyes narrowed calculatingly in the most imperceptible of ways. “Now, then, Nanami- one who has the hope necessary to manage this prison and talent that makes you worthy of being the Ultimate Gamer- why have you come to visit me? Are you here to spit at me? Laugh? Please, go ahead!”

Chiaki felt her chest tighten at his self-deprecation. “I...wanted to…” Her mind drew a blank. “To...uhm…” Another drop of sweat plinked onto her console and she let her pillows fall at her sides to turn it over so the screen faced it. “...I wanted to play a video game with you.”

“Are you going to remove my straitjacket?” asked Nagito, his head cocked to the side.

“...I can’t…” Chiaki blinked. “So...then...I’ll just have to have you look over my shoulder…”

“I would be honoured!” gushed Nagito. He sheepishly added, “However, wouldn’t it hurt your back to accommodate for our difference in height? I’m a head taller than you and it would be comfortable to stand up and be hunched over while gaming in such a place, right?”

Chiaki pinched her cheeks with one hand. It was necessary in order to prepare herself to smile at Nagito, a sight which rendered him speechless. “...Thank you for...being so...considerate. I guess...we can just...talk for...the time being, then…”

“Oh, no- I wouldn’t want to bore you,” laughed Nagito with an air that was so humble it seemed fake. “Why don’t you go back up to your nice Main Course friends? I’m sure they miss you!” His cloud-like hair fell over one eye as his head lowered, tilting to the left, mouth forming a thin line. “Unless...what that stepping stone Hajime said is true. Do really you care about a scummy murderer like me? That kind of weak, all-loving hope will never survive in our world, Miss Nanami.”

_I don't want to live in a world that cruel._

For someone who nearly never stopped smiling, the white-haired boy was surprisingly pessimistic. Chiaki guessed it was probably a front he put up, to cope or something. Miaya said people who did that usually bottled up a lot of trauma, which made sense for Nagito. Alternatively, TV Tropes said that was called a Stepford Smiler.

“...Nagito...what does it mean...to care about someone?”

The question had slipped out from Chiaki’s mouth before she’d even realised what she’d said. She supposed that was embarrassing and stared at Nagito’s knees accordingly. His body was stiller than a corpse, finally matching his ghostly appearance. It was strange to see someone who looked half-dead walking and talking.

Well, now was just as good a time as any to sort out her feelings and learn what feelings were actually like.

“To care about someone is…”

Chiaki looked up, curious.

“Hope.”

Was that his answer to _everything_? Chiaki fought the urge to deadpan. “What...do you mean by that…?”

Nagito said, “Of course! I’ll explain right away,” and cleared his throat, making a disgusting, wheezy noise. “Hope is absolute good! Human bonds are good by proxy! The fact that we have them creates hope! You see?”

She didn’t see.

“Ah...of course I’d mess it up and be confusing and stupid. Let me try again.” Closing his eyes, Nagito laughed. “Most hope is possible because humans care about each other. The bonds they make motivate them to keep going, no matter how big despair grows. Caring for another person is hope. It makes them feel loved and happy and safe and gives them something to protect.” He opened his eyes. “Take Kirigiri for example, if _he_ , the first person she ever trusted, died, she would surely fall into a deep, deep despair, but be pulled out of it- because she’d know that’s not what he’d have wanted and she’d have to keep fighting to maintain hope!”

“...Him?” Chiaki frowned. Oh, _him_. She decided to avoid mentioning what _he'd_ been doing lately. “Kyoko’s strong, so she wouldn’t give in, but...you can’t talk about him dying like...like it’s a good thing.”

Nagito flushed crimson with embarrassment. “Oh, no, no, no- he _can't_ die! He’s humanity’s last stand against despair! It’s impossible! It was just an example!” He smiled. “Please forgive me for saying something so blasphemous! Trash like me just can’t help but be so stupid!”

“You’re not...stupid. You’re...smart,” replied Chiaki. Internally, she added ‘frustratingly so, sometimes’.

Nagito’s dull gaze bored into her. “Trash like me could never amount to anything. All I’m good for is watching the fireworks and guiding everyone in the right direction.” His eyes roamed up and down, taking in her tense posture. “I’m making you uncomfortable, aren’t I?” His laughter came out almost as a giggle. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

_Kill him? Kill...?_

The suggestion made Chiaki’s pupils shrink in shock and horror. Her eyes widened. “N…” Her brain processed his words. “No…!” Chiaki placed her hand on her chest. “Killing a person...is an unforgivable crime-”

Noise blasted from her console, obnoxiously loud enough to make her reflexively toss the object into the abyss. ‘YOU DIED’ was the last thing she saw displayed on the screen What bad luck…

_This is probably where it starts, then..._

Nagito shook with laughter, though he was clearly trying to hold it in. “Is that so? Is that so, Miss Nanami? Ahahaha…! Ahahahahahahahahahahahaaahaha!” The way his body convulsed and the sound rattled in his chest concerned Chiaki.

Nagito abruptly stopped. He tilted his head to the side and let it rest on his shoulder, smiling pitifully. “ **Then...my existence is one even you can't forgive, isn't it?** ”

Chiaki blinked. “H...uh?”

Right. It was easy to forget because of how casual he was, but the the inmate had killed so many people. He was a walking disaster. Any minute now she would likely trip and fall to her death or break her arm. But...Nagito wasn’t completely bad. He’d had a dog and loved it. Miaya had said so. The Steering Committee kept him alive, so there was still hope for him, right? Her vision swam, blurry, as her eyes slowly began to close. Exhaustion crept into her mind- only to dissipate as she jolted awake. Nagito watched her with curious eyes the whole time.

“I…” Chiaki swallowed. “I...don’t...know…”

The young woman debated, _He’s a living, breathing person and he’s not completely bad. But I can’t forgive him, or I’ll give up on my ideals. If I don’t have those...I’m a hypocrite and I don’t deserve to manage this prison_.

“That’s fine!” It wasn’t fine at all. The vague answer displeased him. The fact was obvious in how bright his smile was, as if was compensating for the disappointment her felt inside. “You’re an Ultimate, so the decision’s already been made for you.” The white-haired boy jerked his chin at himself. “ You couldn’t care less about me. I’m not even worthy of breathing the same air as you.” His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “It hurts that you’re doing this, because I know I’m not worthy.”

Chiaki frowned. Her heart ached. She reached out towards him. “Nagito...you’re-”

Somehow, the prison manager tripped over her own feet. She didn’t scream as she tumbled forward. However, Nagito did something close to that when she accidentally headbutted him in the face. Chiaki’s face smacked into the cold stone of the floor and bright pinpricks of light exploded across her vision- swimming, spreading, expanding infinitely and finitely… _Everything was all just a dream. This was one reality of an infinitely finite amount. It was all a lie, all fiction. Reality was just a game-_

“Mmmph…!”

Something tickled her stomach, making her snort inelegantly. Peeling her face off the floor and propping herself up with her hands, Chiaki could see the spreading pool of pink blood on the stone and down the front of her shirt indicating her nose was bleeding through the spiderweb of cracks on the riot helmet’s plastic visor. At least her nose didn’t seem to be broken when she prodded it experimentally like an alien probing a human.

Chiaki’s mouth hung open when she saw the position she was in. Thanks to his chains, Nagito was suspended with his back arched uncomfortably like the first time Hajime had crashed into him. Only this time, Chiaki’s stomach was pressed into his face and she was practically straddling his shoulders. It left Chiaki dangling over his head, with her shaking arms holding her up being the only thing preventing her from kissing the floor again.

“Uhm…” She searched for the proper reaction. This kind of thing happened in dating sims all the time, didn’t it? “K-Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… Pervert…”

A pause.

“I think.”

Nagito’s breathing against her stomach grew more frantic. While the sensation did tickle pleasantly, it unfortunately meant he was suffocating. If someone didn’t act soon he would die. Chiaki would have killed someone.

What could she do?

Erm… What was it that Akane had taught her? In a voice thick due to her bleeding nose, Chiaki ordered, “Don’t look. It’s...gonna be...embarrassing.”

Praying this would work, the manager gathered her legs as close together as possible and leaned forwards while pushing off through her feet. She took care to bend her elbows slightly. Chiaki’s eyes drooped as she continued to edge forward. The entire world (at that moment consisting of only the abyss, the walkway, the light, and the stone platform) turned into a whirling black blur with splotches of white and grey.

The momentum of her roll carried Chiaki forward and lifted her off Nagito, though not without shoving his face uncomfortably close to her crotch first. It was highly unnerving for both parties involved, but thankfully it only lasted a moment and she was wearing the riot trousers over her skirt. Chiaki gasped in surprise for the split second she turned the somersault into a crude hand-stand.

And then she collapsed onto her back, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Her cat backpack and the gear took the most of the damage, and she was beginning to grow increasingly thankful for how thick it was.

“Phew… Victory. Level Up,” sighed the mauve-haired girl, flipping up the protective plastic visor of the riot helmet to wipe her sweat away. She slowly scrambled to her feet and turned to Nagito. Was he okay?

_If I’m worried like this...do I care about him?_

Despite his desire to die, Nagito was filled with an odd sense of happiness when he was finally able to take long gulps of the stale prison air. It tasted oddly sweet. His vision was blurry, like Vaseline smeared over a camera lens. Everything was spinning, spinning, spinning- like the endless cycle of hope and despair, right? Why was it endless now? What would finish it?

A mauve blob floated in front of his vision, eventually solidifying into the face of Chiaki Nanami, her brow creased with an emotion he didn’t understand.

“Oh…! Your nose is bleeding,” he noticed. “You should get that patched up. It looks like your visit is over. I had fun today, and I’m very sorry that my luck caused this.”

“Even so...I can’t just...leave you like that,” said Chiaki with determination flashing in her pink eyes. With clumsy steps, she maneuvered behind Nagito and hooked her arms under his shoulders. She heaved with all her might, but she just wasn’t strong enough. All that lying around and gaming hadn’t done her many favours despite the fact that Nekomaru praised her for being naturally quite strong.

“Hajime...makes this look so much...easier...even though he’s...putting just...as much effort as...I am…” Chiaki grunted slightly as she gave Nagito’s back one final push. It was just as much in vain as her other efforts.

Tipping his head back, Nagito asked himself more than Chiaki, “Why does someone like him put so much effort into it…?”

“Because...he’s nice,” Chiaki answered, stiffening when those pale green eyes slid over to look at her. But it was true. Hajime was quite nice. He had made NanaMii for her and he’d been brave enough to take up this job, though she supposed it wasn’t like he had a choice. “Hajime...cares about you…” A pause. “Just...like...I do…”

Nagito scoffed. “This isn’t funny. Lying so much can’t be good for your health. Look at how skinny and pale Oma is.” He jerked his head up, as if the short boy in question was watching them.

“It’s...not...a lie. I’m...not very good at lying,” said Chiaki.

“You’ve gotten better.”

Wiping sweat and blood from her face once more, Chiaki felt another exhale leave her lips. She was so tired… If only she could go to sleep… But she had a feeling if she stuck around too long, Nagito’s luck would return with a vengeance and probably do a lot more than just make her nose bleed. Nagito’s luck, which never hurt him and only hurt those around him…

Oh!

Once her pillows were retrieved, Chiaki returned to her place behind Nagito. She turned so that her back was facing him and then sat down, scooting back until her body formed a sort of C and she was directly under him. Her pillows were placed in her lap, high enough that she could lean forward slightly to rest on them comfortably, and her back straightened as she did so. It managed to lift Nagito into a much more comfortable position, and her pillows both kept her back upright enough to not cause problems and absorbed most of the weight.

She yawned, “Is that...better? This is...all I can think of until the next time Hajime visits you...to help.”

Nagito’s voice was quiet. “What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you throwing up because you’re touching trash like me?”

“I guess...you’re less trashy than you think,” was her sleepy reply. It silenced him completely. “This way...I can sleep and keep you upright. And since I’m directly against you...and your luck never affects you badly...I’m...much safer by your,” she yawned, “side.”

The veil of sleep settled around her. Nine days of all-nighters was finally taking its toll. Everything dissolved into white, fluffy cotton and pink bunnies and faraway islands where killing games took place- the plot of one of her latest video game obsessions. What a peaceful place… Sleep was truly amazing. It was like death but without the commitment. Totally bitchin’, as Sonia was prone to saying.

“Safe? By my side?” Nagito laughed, but he wheezed as he did so. There was something incredibly sad in his figure as he leaned forward to avoid touching Chiaki as much as possible.

“Ahahaha! We’ll see about that, won’t we, Chiaki?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh- I'm really sorry this took so long to get out. I've been really tired and drained lately, but I've been feeling a bit better recently, so hopefully the next chapter will be out much sooner! Thank you to whoever reads this! I'm really grateful!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave Kudos or a comment! Have a wonderful day and thank you for reading this!


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